LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIC60 


9 


•   £  r- 


-s 


I^TEODTJOTIOE' 


O  the  Friends  and  Patrons  who  upheld  me  in 
my  "Life-Struggles,"  I  dedicate  "Shadowy 
Hand."  Also  my  new  Lecture,  "Hidden 
Hand;  Pulpit  and  The  Stage"  Both  the  book 
and  the  lecture  are  the  fruit  of  a  lifetime.  My 
life-study  has  been  the  "Hiding  of  God's  Power"  in 
eloquence,  the  moving  of  soul-forces.  I  present  not 
only  incidents  and  events  in  "  Life-Struggles,"  but  also 
excerpts  from  my  sermons  and  lectures.  "  Fast  Young 
Men  "  is  the  lecture  that  bought  a  church,  yet  "  Bach- 
elors and  Their  Follies,"  and  "  Old  Maids  and  Their 
Accusers,"  have  attracted  larger  audiences,  and  met 
with  greater  favor.  It  remains  to  be  seen  whether 
"  Hidden  Hand ;  Pulpit  and  The  Stage,"  shall  eclipse 
them  all.  My  friends  predict  that  "  Shadowy  Hand  " 
will  surpass  "Ned  Nevins,"  20,000  copies  of  which 
were  sold  the  first  year.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  here 
submit  the  first  edition. 


PREFACE  TO  THE   SECOND  EDITION. 

As  the  first  edition  was  exhausted  in  a  few  hours,  I 
make  my  bow,  express  my  gratitude,  and  issue  forth 
the  second  edition.  According  to  present  indications, 
"  Shadowy  Hand  "  will  reach  twice  the  circulation  of 
**  Ned  Nevins."  Thanks  to  the  success  of  "  Ned,"  for 
preparing  the  way, — thanks,  a  thousand  thanks,  to  all 
my  old  friends. 


PEEFACE   TO   THE   FIFTH   THOUSAND. 

"SHADOWY  HAND,"  through  storms  of  adverse  criticisms,  has 
reached  its  fifth  thousand.  In  this  edition  I  devote  an  extra  chapter  to  my 
critics.  If  this  warfare  continues,  I  may  be  compelled  to  make  a  greater 
expose  of  the  heartless  preaching  and  editorial  sacrilege  of  those  "  clothed 
with  the  fleece,  yet  leaving  the  sheep  to  starve."  Hitherto  I  have  wo:  ked 
in  harmony  with  all  religious  denominations,  —  even  Catholics  and  Jews 
have  sanctioned  my  philanthropic  labors  among  the  outcasts,  and  they 
have  given  me  aid.  I  fear  that  some  of  the  high-salaried  divines  who  have 
assailed  me  may  live  in  glass  houses.  To  them  be  the  consequences  of 
throwing  the  first  stone.  I  feel,  more  than  ever,  that  a  great  work  is  com 
mitted  to  me;  and,  God  helping  me,  I  will  try  to  fulfil  my  high  commis- 
sion. 


// 

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fee  fa<ie  of    ^/dc^ott  t^vtudfe: 

w  /ecfate.          //#  (fo  dfj   in  veAajf  of  many,  tnei- 

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aa  a.   Jedttmenia/  &   ycui  aetvtc&t  amona  we 
'UJ,  and  Me       ci 

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a/f  cannot  ve  /taa  at  a  time  &  dutif  ttoui  conven- 

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won    to    ae/tvei    itoul    new  /<scta>te, 

/-,  * 

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tence,   we  teauedt  you    &    aeu'vei    Moat    n 

f  i?  & 


anc 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

Page 
Birth.— Father's  Death.  — Sickness  and  Poverty. — Turned  into  tho 

Street Snow-storm  and  Sled.  —  Visit  to  Grave-yard.  —  "Shadowy 

Hand."  — " Never  too  Poor  to  Pray."  —  Settled  in  Old  Store     .          .      13 

CHAPTER    II. 

How  we  lived  in  the  Old  Store.  —  Mother's  Industry*  —  My  Early  Edu- 
cation. —  Mother's  Love  versus  Whip  and  Lash  of  Servitude.  — Moth- 
er's Sickness.  — Went  for  Fuel.  —  Lost  in  the  Woods.  —  Blinded  by 
Storm.  — Light  in  the  Window 20 

CHAPTER    III. 

ily  Consecration  in  the  Old  School-house. — Its  Effect  on  me  there. — 
Its  Realization  in  after  Years.  —  Violent  Death  of  my  Companions.  — 
Uncle's  Reformation.  — Farm-life.  —  Store-life.  —  Tavern-life.  —  Liti- 
gations. —  My  Danger  .......  27 

CHAPTER    IV. 

Gatherings  at  the  Tavern.  — My  first  Disobedience.  —  A  Mother's  Mid- 
night Prayer. — Thy  Vows  are  upon  me.  —  Repentance.  —  Getting 
ready  for  Academy  ..*......  34 

CHAPTER    V. 

Leaving  Home.  —  "Shadowy   Hand."  —  Going  to   Lawyer  Belden's. 

—  Home-spun  versus  Broadcloth.  —First  Salutation  of  Students. — 
"Boots!   Boots!" — Kick    from  Student.  —  First  Declamation. — 
The  Horse  more   sympathizing  than  the   Critics.  —  First   Failure. 

—  Success  at  Last. — Inspiration  of  a  Mother's  Hand      .  .  .42 

CHAPTER    VI. 

Anxious  to  become  a  School-master.  —  Discouragements.  —  Travel- 
ling on  Foot  and  travelling  on  Horseback.  —  Female  Teachera. — « '  If 

(v) 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

Pago 

I  had  only  boon  a  Girl."— Appeal  on  the  Ox  Cart.— Mr.  Goodsell 
yields  to  the  poor  Boy's  Plea. —Authority  for  teaching  in  Hope  well. 
— Small  Pay  and  "  Boarding  Round "  .  .  .  .  .61 

CHAPTER   VII. 

School-master  at  Last.  —  Hopewell  District.  —  Dollar  a  -week  and 
Board.  —  Success.  —  Grammar  Mania.  —  Reengaged.  —  Wages  Ad- 
vanced.—  Exhibition  closes  School.  —  Mother's  "Shadowy  Hand." 
—  Banks  District.  —  Enthusiasm.  —  "  Wood-bees."  —  Revival.  — 
Joined  the  Methodists.  —  Charm  of  the  Itinerancy.  —  Taught  at  Wes- 
ton 69 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

Taught  at  Flat  Rock.  —  Jealous  School-master. — Taught  at  Dwight's 
Old  Academy  and  at  Fairfiold.  —  Studied  with  Colonel  Perry.  — 
First  Impression  of  Gough. — Anxious  to  Travel.  —  Visits  to  Alms- 
bouses  and  Prisons.  —  School  of  Passion. — Two  Objects  :  My  own 
Improvement,  and  to  administer  to  the  Afflicted  .  .  67 

CHAPTER    IX. 

Address  to  Fallen  "Women  in  the  New  York  Penitentiary.  —  First 
Freedom  in  Original  Expression. —  Effect  of  my  Speech. — Sobs, 
Bighs  and  Wailings. — Address  to  Slaves  in  African  Church,  Rich- 
mond.— Brass  Ring. —  How  to  find  Jesus.  —  "Hallelujah." — Con- 
trast at  Philadelphia.  — Speaking  to  Naked  Walls.  — Solitary  Con- 
finement. —  Buried  Alive.  —  Visit  to  Sing  Sing.  —  "  Resisting  the 
Spirit."  —  "  My  Mother,  oh,  my  Mother  "  .  ...  73 

CHAPTER    X. 

A  former  Pupil  in  Prison. — Mary,  the  Drunkard's  Daughter. — 
Drink  the  cause  of  Home-ruin.  — A  Mother's  Confession.  — Power  of 
Appetite.  —  Confession  of  a  Convict. — Misplaced  Confidence. — Re- 
turn to  Jail.  —  President  Nott's  Kindness  to  me.  —  Giving  up  a 
Child  for  Christ  .  '  .  .  .  .  .  .  .81 

CHAPTER    XI. 

"Over  the  Rapids." — Fate  of  Richard  Leedom. — The  Press  on  my 
"Ways  and  Means."  —  My  Dangerous  Joke. — A  Drunkard's  Con. 

version.— A  Wife's  Pleading.  —  A  Child's  Successful  Eloquence 

Accident  on  the  White  Mountains.  —  Nashua  Paper. — The  Lost  Lamb. 

—  Charlie  in  Heaven  ........      94 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

» 

CHAPTER    XII. 

Page 

Arrival  In  Boston.  —  Spoke  for  Father  Taylor.  —  Spoke  for  Phlnea* 
Stowe.  —  Spoke  In  Tremont  Temple.  —  A  Mother's  Love.  —  Giving  up 
her  Child.—  Zion's  Herald.  —  Boston  Bee.  — Bad  Company.— Tru- 
ancy.—Theft. —Prison.— Breaking  a  Fathers  Heart  .  .  .  107 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

Children's  Campaign  for  Temperance.— New  Bedford,  3,000  pledged. — 
Sandwich,  1,150. —North  Bridgewater,  1,700. —Worcester,  3,500.— 
Springfield,  2,500.  —  Hartford,  2,900.  —  Middletown,  1,000.  —  New 
Haven,  4,000.  —  Newark,  New  Jersey,  3,700.  —  Total  in  One  Year  — 
19,450.  —  Good  Conscience  my  only  Reward  ....  113 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

Lecture  hefore  Paintings.  — Sketches  of  Virginia.  —  Peaks  of  Otter.— 
Geological  Deposits.  — Sunrise  and  Moonlight.  — Equestrian  Ascent. 
Primeval  Forests.  —  Climate.  —  Storm.  —  Mountain  Billows.  —  Con- 
vulsion of  the  Elements.  — Negro  Astonishment  at  Locomotive*  .  127 

CHAPTER    XV. 

Grave  of  Patrick  Henry.  —  His  Eloquence.  —  Speech  on  the  Johnny 
Hook  Case. —  "Beef  I  Beef  !"  — John  Randolph,  of  Roanoke.  — 
Rivalry  of  Henry  and  Randolph.  —  The  Preaching  of  Rev.  Lorenzo 
Dow.  —  Anecdotes  of  the  Stolen  Axe,  the  Negro's  Toot-horn,  and 
the  Gallon  of  Rum 140 

CHAPTER    XVI. 

Monticello. — Jefferson's  Residence.  —  Popular  Forest.  —  Tomh  of  Jef. 
ferson.  — University.  —  Chaplain  and  the  Bible. — French  Politics  and 
Religion. —  Mammoth. —  Broken-hearted. — Veolia  and  Ostee.  — 
"Go,  white  man,  go  1"  —  Death  of  Veolia.  —  Ostee's  Despair. — 
JSolian  Harp 153 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

Preaching  to  Slaves  at  Richmond.  —  Excited  Congregation.  —  Shouts  of 
"Glory  !  Glory  !  " — Natural  Bridge.  —  Leyburn  Lackland's  Leap. 

—  Shadow  of  the  departed.  — Deer.  — Puss  taking  a  Sam  Patch  Leap. 

—  Teamster's  Lost  Fuel.  —  Romantic  Marriages    .  .  .  .165 


Vlli  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

Pago 

Young  Wallace.— Fatal  Pall  from  Natural  Bridge.— Daring  Feat  of 
Young  Piper.  —  Incidents.  —  Negroes'  Lineal  Descent.  —  Over  Niag- 
ara Falls.  —  Power  of  a  Woman's  Tongue.  —  Chained  Eagle's  Escape 
from  Bondage  .  -  .  •  •  •  •  •  17* 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

Negro  Preaching.  —  "  Glory  1  glory  !  we  is  all  a  comin'." — Lively  Con- 
gregation. —  "  Higher  !  higher  I  O,  Lord-a-massy,  I  can't  go  no  fud- 
der  I "  — "Callher  Children."— Baltimore  .  .  .  .189 

CHAPTER    XX. 

Return  from  the  South. —Sick  at  Harrisburg,  Pa.  — Carried  Home  to 
Newtown,  Conn.  —  Recovery.  —  Resolved  to  Preach.  —  Opposition.  — 
Quarterly  Conference  at  Stepney. —  License  Refused. — Mother's 
Grief.— My  Night  of  Unrest 308 

CHAPTER    XXI. 

Effect  of  Bad  News.  —  Mother  recovers,  and  becomes  bolder  than  ever. 
—  Battle  of  Argument.  —  Radical  Mother.  —  Conservative  Uncle. — 
Opposed  by  my  Uncle,  who  loves  Camp  Meetings,  but  won't  "  shell 
out." — My  Sacrifices  scare  him.  —  Preacher's  Visit.  —  Effect  on  the 
Poultry  .  .  ....•' 211 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

One  more  Effort  for  License.— School  at  Easton.—  Night-School.— 
Revival. — Jealousy  of  English  Preacher.  —  Packed  Conference. — 
Recommendation  to  act  as  Colporteur  without  License.  —  My  Speech 
in  reply. — My  Appeal  from  the  Conference  to  the  People.  —  Again 
refused  License.  —  New  Society.  —  Opened  at  Long  Hill. — Zeal  and 
Enthusiasm  .........  217 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

Church  Built,  dedicated,  and  paid  for.  —  "  Morgan  Chapel."  —  Rev.  J. 
B.  Wakeley.  —  Rev.  E.  E.  Griswold.  —  Increase  of  Membership. — 
Certificate  of  Life  Membership.  — Spiritual  Influence  of  Church. — 
My  Reluctance  to  preach  the  Farewell  Sermon.  —  Leave  for  New 
London  ...  .  223 


CONTENTS.  IX 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 

Page 

Labor*  at  Nsw  London. —  First  Appeal  to  the  Pocket.  —  How  to  dis- 
perse a  Crowd.  —  Last  Nights'  Meetings  in  Second  Baptist  Church.  — 
Revival  Commenced.  —  Three  Hundred  joined  the  Baptist  Churches. 

—  Additions  to  oilier  Churches.  —  Union  Meetings.  —  Union  Church. 

—  New  London  Contribution  to  the  Boston  Fair,  —  Preached  at  Nor- 
•wicb,  Mystic,  Westerly  and  Providence    .....    235 

CHAPTER    XXV. 

Arrival  at  Boston.  —  Preaching  in  Three  Methodist  Churches. — Visit 
to  Preachers'  Meeting.  —  Preachers'  Refusal  to  aid  me.  —  Kindness  of 
Dr.  Kirk. — Hiring  of  Music  Hall.  —  First  Sermon.  —  "Preaching 
for  the  Times."  — Critical  Audience  .....  244 

CHAPTER    XXVI. 

Large  Audiences.  —  Effect  of  the  Sermon.  —  Congratulations.  —  Circu- 
lation of  Sermon.  —  Three  Services  a  day.  — At  Music  Hall,  Wait'* 
Hall,  and  Lager-Beer  Saloon.  —  Decline  of  Health.  — Funds  Running 
Low.  —  Rainy  Sunday  Morning.  —  Story  of  the  Robin. — Sermon  on 
Woman's  Mission  ...  .....  260 

CHAPTER    XXVII. 

Merchants  aid  me.  —  They  petition  for  Use  of  Franklin  School  Build- 
ing.—  Organization  of  the  Boston  Union  Mission  Society. — Its  Suc- 
cess. —  Converts  from  every  Class  of  Society.  —  Over  a  Thousand  Re- 
claimed. —  Cheap  Police  Investment.  —  Night-school.  —  Volunteer 
Teachers.  —  Exhibition  of  Ned  Nevins.  —  My  Ordination.  —  Sickness. 
— White  Dove.  —  Harbinger  of  Peace  .  .  ...  .270 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

White  Dove  continued.  —  Death  of  Mrs.  Julia  Youngneel.  —  Sick-cham- 
ber. —  Angel  Watcher.  —  Her  Sparkling  Eye,  a  Gem  from  Ocean 
Wave.  —  Marriage.  —  Life  Risked  and  Lost.  —  Dying  like  a  Dove.  — 
Farewell,  White  Dove.  —  Heaven's  Commissioner  !  holy  bird,  fare- 
well 1 280 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 

First  Shot  from  Fort  Sumpter.  —  Drill  in  Franklin  School-house.  —  Bit- 
ter Partings.  —  Massachusetts  First  Regiment.  —  Return  Home.  — 
Ovation.  —  Story  of  Nicholas  S.  Hall.  —  Funeral  Service.  —  His  Mother 


•  X  CONTENTS. 

Pag. 

at  the  Hospital. —Cries  for  "Water  1  water  J"— What  has  the  Sol- 
dier done  ?— What  shall  we  do  for  him  ?  .  .  .  .298 

CHAPTER    XXX. 

Address  to  Returned  Soldiers.  —  Tablets  to  the  Unrcturned.  —  Chris- 
tian Soldier.  —  Personal  Conflicts.  —  Every  Man  to  be  engaged.  — 
More  Privates,  less  Officers.  —  Martial  Language.  —  Call  for  Volun- 
teers. —  Position  of  the  Enemy.  —  Strength,  yet  Inaction  of  our 
Forces.— Latter-day  Warfare. —Better  Times  Coming  .  .  309 

CHAPTER    XXXI. 

Relinquishing  of  Night-school  and  Franklin  Building.  — The  City's 
Plan. —  Hired  Teachers. — Increased  Expense.  —  Failure. —  Elected 
Chaplain  of  the  Senate.  —  Complimentary  Resolve. — Assisted  by 
Governor  Claflin. —  Purchase  of  Indiana  Place  Chapel. —  Liberal 
Offer  to  have  it  called  "Morgan  Chapel."  —  Benefit  by  Jordan,  Marsh 
&Co.,  in  Music  Hall.  — "Fast  Young  Men  "delivered  200  times  .  322 

CHAPTER    XXXII. 

Painful  Telegram.— "Mother  Dying."— My  hurried  Departure.  - 
Arrived  too  Late.  —  Her  last  Hours.  —  Calls  for  "Henry." — Desire 
to  wave  "  Shadowy  Hand  "  in  Parting  Blessing.  —  Grove  Meeting.  — 
Great  Crowd.  —  Inspiration  over  my  Mother's  Crave. — Appeal  to 
Young  Men.  — "Where  the  Friends  of  my  Youth  ?"  — Return  to 
Pastorate  in  Boston. — Discourse  on  the  Death  of  my  Mother  .  331 

CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

Testimonial  Service  to  the  Aged.  —  Service  In  Morgan  Chapel.  — 
Inmates  of  the  Old  Men's  and  Old  Women's  Homes. —  The  several 
Ages  of  the  Old  People.— Fathers  Cleveland  and  Rogers  represent 
200  years,  Mrs.  Hawley  96.  —  Presentation  of  Gifts  to  the  very  Aged. 

—  Address  of  Welcome.  —  Donors  and  Recipients.  —  Floral  Distribu- 
tion      ..........342 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

Railroad  of  Life.  —  Lecturer  Disconcerted.  —  Dissertation  on  Babies. 

—  Locomotive  Whistle.  —  Sinners'  Train.— How  Sinners  Trembled.  — 
Whole  Audience   Alarmed.  —  Sermon    in    Full.  —  Description   of 

T raius.  -  -  Redemption  Train.  —  Invitation.  — ' '  All  Aboard- 1 "  .    364 


CONTENTS.  XI 

CHAPTER    XXXV. 

Pag. 

"My  Experience  In  the  Brick  Business." — From  Jerusalem  to  Jericho. 

—  Fell  among  Thieves.  —  Extension  of  Shawmut  Avenue.  —  Raising 
of  the  Chapel.  —  My  Experiment  among  Tramps  and  Street  Idlers. 

—  Anecdotes. —  Testimonial  Services  in  Music  Hall.  —  Presentation 
by  Mayor  Gaston  to  John  Cavanaugb  and  Isaac  C.  Cooper. — Lec- 
ture on  "  Workers  and  Shirkers  "...  .    865 

CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

Olympic  Theatre  Lectures. — Their  Success.  —  "Speckled  Bird  "for 
the  Seventeenth  Time  in  Boston.  —  Notices  of  the  Post  and  Globe.  — 
Text:  "My  Heritage  is  unto  me  as  a  Speckled  Bird  ;  the  Birds 
round  about  are  against  her."  Jer.  xii.  9.  —  Clerical  Singularities.  — 
The  Puritans.  —  Forefathers.  —  Then  and  Now.  —  Appeal  for  "  Men  "  376 

CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

Second  Lecture.  —  "World's  Great  Fanatics."  —  Instances  :  Charles 
XII.,  of  Sweden.  —  Charles  V.,  of  Germany.  —  Saladin  the  Great. — 
Seward  the  Brave.  —  Tasso.  —  Peter  the  Great  of  Russia.  —  Rousseau. 

—  Julius   Cu-i-ar. —  Peter   the   Hermit.  —  St.    Anthony.  —  Ignatius 
Loyola.  —  Joan  of  Arc.  —  Third  Lecture.  —  "  Heroism  of  the  Street." — 
God's  Nobility. — Value  of  the  Laboring  Man.  —  Heroes  of  Low  Life. 

—  Anecdotes    .........    384 

CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

The  Scott  Insanity  Case.  —  My  Efforts  in  Mrs.  Scott's  Behalf.  —  Plea 
for  One  Week's  Trial.  —  Failure.  —  "  Walk  1  walk  !  walk  I  "  — Froin 
the  Hartford  Pout.  —  Sane  or  Insane.  — Decision  of  Judge  White.  — 
Mrs.  Scott's  Labors  for  a  Livelihood.  —  Prolonged  Search  for  her 
Child.  —  Husband  leaves  Massachusetts  for  Connecticut.  —  Wife 
obliged  to  follow. — Incarceration  at  Middle-town. — Hartford.  Courant. 

—  Report  of  Citizens'  Committee.  —  Letters  from  Governor  Claflin, 
Oliver  Warner,  and  Others. — Newton  Journal.  —  Conclusion. — Re- 
lease among  Friends  might  help,  could  not  harm  her     ...    399 

CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

Paying  off  the  Debt.  —  Series  of  Lectures.  —  My  pulpit  occupied  by  the 
Methodists. — Notices  from  Zion' a  Herald,  Boston  Post,  Traveller, 
and  Daily  News.  —  "Slavery  of  Fashion:  Old  Bonnets  and  They 
That  Wear  Them."— Varieties  of  Bonnets.  —How  to  Make  a  Bonnet. 

—  How  to  Put  It  On.  — How  to  Wear  It.  — Those  who  Wear  Old 
Bonnets. — Honor  to  the  Working- women. — Coronation  of  Labor    .    416 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    XL. 

Pag« 

Great  Rush  to  Boston  Music  Hall.  —  "  Bachelors  and  their  Follies." — 
Notices  of  the  Press. — Seven  Reasons  Why  Men  Don't  Marry. — 
Bride  freighted  like  a  Schooner. — Arguments  in  Favor  of  Marriage. 
—  Need  of  Home. —  Happy  Pair.  —  Well-matched  Span.  —  Lecture 
on  "  Old  Maids  and  Their  Accusers."  —  Accusers'  Verdict.  — Reasons 
Why  Old  Maids  Have  Not  Married.  —  Monument  to  Old  Maids. — 
"  Memoriae  Sacrum."  —  Fairy  Tale  of  the  Alhambra.  —  Woman's 
Temperance  Crusade  .  .  .....  423 

CHAPTER    XLI. 

Notice  of  New  Book  and  Lecture  by  the  Boston  Transcript. —  "Shad- 
owy  Hand  "  and  "  Hidden  Hand."  —  Extracts  from  "  Hidden  Hand." — 
New  Sunday  Evening  Lecture  :  "  Samson."  —  Notice  from  the  Prov- 
idence Press  and  Albany  Argus.  —  Boston  Globe  on  "Shadowy 
Hand."  —  Summary  of  the  Book.  —  Its  Romance,  its  Autobiography, 
its  History  and  Marvellous  Incidents.  .....  439 

'CHAPTER    XLII. 

Fifth  Thousand.  —  Chapter  on  the  Critics. —Who  assails  the  Book?  — 
Plea  for  Sensation.  —  Proposition  to  my  Assailants.  —  Will  sell  Church 
and  place  fifty  Men  in  the  Field  if  they  will  give  the  Gospel  a  fair  Trial 
for  one  year  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  449 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1.  Steel  Portrait. 

2.  Frontispiece. 

3.  How  we  lived  at  the  "  Old  Store  "       .          .  .          .          .20 

4.  Morgan  Chapel,  Long  Hill         .  .           .           .           .           .223 

5.  Effect  of  Wendell  Phillips's  Speech  on  the  News-boys        .  .    274 

6.  "  My  Mother  1    Her  Shadow  still  lingers "     .  .           .           .    342 

7 .  Morgan-  Chapel  Building,  Boston          .           .  .           .          .368 


SHADOWY  HAND; 


OK, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES 


CHAPTER    I. 

Birth.  —  Father's  Death.  —  Sickness  and  Poverty.  —  Turned 
into  the  Street.  —  Snow-storm  and  Sled.  —  Visit  to  Grave- 
yard.—  "  Shadowy  Hand." —  "Never  too  Poor  to  Pray."  — 
Settled  in  Old  Store. 

"WAS  born  in  Newtown,  Conn.,  "land  of 
steady  habits,"  March  7,  1825.  When  I 
was  five  years  of  age,  my  father,  mother, 
and  brother  were  all  sick  with  the  typhoid 
fever.  To  escape  the  contagion,  I  was  taken  to 
the  house  of  a  relative. 

"I  want  to  go  home!  Oh,  let  me  go  home. 
I  want  to  go  home  to  my  father  !  "  I  said,  weeping 
at  my  grandfathers  gate. 

The  stern  old  man  replied,  "You  can't  go  home, 
you  are  going  to  stay  here  with  me." 

"I  will  go  home  I     I  won't  stay  with  you  an- 
(13) 


14  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

other  day!  I  don't  want  to  stay  here,  I  don't 
love  you.  I  want  to  go  to  my  father.  My  father 
loves  me;  he  is  a  Trooper  —  gives  me  hobby- 
horses, and  wooden  soldiers — and  gets  me  lots 
of  pretty  things." 

"You  can't  go  home.  You  have  no  father. 
Your  father  is  dead  !  " 

Saying  this,  he  sprang  upon  his  fleet  white 
horse,  and  galloped  over  the  hill  towards  my 
father's  house.  "  Your  father  is  dead ! "  re- 
sounded in  rny  ears  long  after  the  clatter  from  the 
horse's  hoofs  had  died  away.  I  knew  something 
terrible  had  happened  ;  I  read  it  in  the  old  man's 
countenance.  His  harsh  voice  and  visible  agita- 
tion were  ominous  of  some  dread  event. 

"Your  father  is  dead  !  "  What  strange  tidings 
to  a  boy  so  young.  "  Your  father  is  dead ! " 
Thought  I,  what  does  that  mean  ?  Alas  !  in  after 
years  I  learned  too  well  what  it  meant. 

Next  day  I  was  carried  to  my  father's  funeral. 
The  neighbors  placed  the  coffin  upon  a  bier  which 
was  extemporized  for  the  occasion,  and  bore  it  on 
their  shoulders  to  the  grave  which  was  near  by. 
After  service  was  over,  the  lid  of  the  coffin  was 
thrown  back.  Here,  for  the  first  time,  I  gazed 
upon  the  features  of  Death. 

The  minister  took  me  in  his  arms,  and  bending 
over,  said,  "  Look  at  your  father,  my.little  boy  ! " 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  %    15. 

I  wanted  to  throw  myself  upon  my  father's  neck, 
and  cover  him  with  kisses ;  but  when  I  saw  the 
lifeless  form  I  recoiled  in  horror,  and  said,  K  Let 
me  go  and  see  my  mother  !  " 

I  was  taken  to  her  sick-room,  but  she  was  so 
changed  I  was  afraid  to  approach  her. 

"Come  here,  my  son,"  she  whispered,  stretch- 
ing out  her  hand,  but  I  dare  not  go.  I  have  re- 
pented many  a  time  since  that  I  did  not  enfold 
her  in  one  fond  embrace  at  that  trying  hour. 

At  length  the  fever  turned,  the  crisis  was  past, 
and  she  slowly  recovered.  But  sickness  reduced 
us  to  poverty.  The  nurses  became  demoralized, 
and  appropriated  whatever  they  could  lay  their 
hands  upon.  Even  the  neighbors  and  relations 
who  carried  articles  home  for  safe  keeping,  for- 
got to  return  them.  The  creditors  were  merci- 
less. The  large  white  house  which  my  father 
had  erected  was  sold  over  our  heads.  My  brother 
had  been  placed  with  a  relative  until  he  should 
be  old  enough  to  learn  a  trade.  It  was  mid- 

O 

winter.  The  day  had  come  when  we  were  to 
be  turned  into  the  street.  The  snow  was  deep, 
the  winds  were  furious,  and  piercing  was  the  cold ; 
but  the  elements  were  not  so  severe  as  the  in- 
humanity which  was  ejecting  us  into  the  pitiless 
blast.  AVe  had  no  redress.  Go  we  must,  go  we 
did. 


16  ,.  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

"As  the  storm  rages,"  said  the  landlord,  "you 
can  stay  one  day  more." 

"  Not  an  hour,"  replied  my  mother,  indignantly. 
"Not  an  hour,  sir!  God  forgive  you,  you  have 
robbed  me  of  my  home  ! '' 

She  wept  bitterly,  wrung  her  hands,  and  went 
out  into  the  storrn,  calling  me  to  follow. 

"  Oh,  mother  ! "  I  said,  "  why  do  you  go  ?  " 

She  smiled  SAveetly  through  her  tears,  placed  a 
little  bag  of  nieal  upon  my  hand-sled,  then  kiss- 
ing me,  she  said,  "Hush,  my  boy !  mother  will 
not  forsake  you." 

As  we  battled  with  the  drifting  snow  and  pelt- 
ing storm,  both  pulling  on  the  string  of  the  sled, 
I  took  my  first  lessons  in  "LIFE- STRUGGLES." 
Then  it  was  I  first  caught  from  her  encouraging 
lips  those  watchwords  of  hope  which  have  been 
as  a  talisman  through  life.  "Never  too  poor  to 
pray  I"  "  Never  too  weak  to  win!"  Looking  up 
into  her  face,  I  cried,  "I  will  be  bigger  by  and 
bye,  I'll  be  a  man  ;  then  you  shaVt  want." 

I  know  not  whether  I  pulled  a  pound,  whether 
I  was  a  help  or  hindrance,  but  it  was  a  world  of 
comfort  to  her  that  I  tried!  It  was  heart-help; 
it  was  what  she  most  needed.  Indeed  I  believe 
that  little  aid  I  gave  her  on  that  memorable  oc- 
casion was  more  to  her  than  the  strength  of  a 
Hercules ;  it  cheered  her  more  than  gold.  As 


LIEE-STRUGGLES.  17 

she  saw  my  little  feet  tussling  with  the  snow,  mj 
hand  tugging  at  the  cord,  straining  every  nerve 
to  aid  her,  she-said,  "Hope  against  Hope  !  Pride 
of  my  heart !  Mother  won't  despair  with  such  a 
little-  hero  ! "  Then  bending  down  and  warmly 
embracing  me,  she  melted  the  cold  snow  from  my 
face  by  her  warm  caress,  and  repeated,  "Never 
too  poor  to  pray  ! "  "Never  too  weak  to  win  !  " 

We  pursued  our  journey,  slowly  trudging 
through  the  deep  snow,  over  the  hill,  until  we 
reached  my  father's  new-made  grave.  Here  she 
was  overcome  with  grief, — her  heart  failed  her ; 
and  falling  upon  her  knees  beside  that  grave,  .she 
cried,  "God  of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless,  has 
it  come  to  this  ?  Oh,  cruel  stroke  !  Oh,  worse 
than  death  !  Save  me  and  my  boy  !  " 

Then  she  fell  prostrate.  The  pitiless  gale  was 
not  more  piercing  than  was  my  cry  of  distress 
as  I  flew  to  her  side.  "You  must  not  die, 
mother!"  I  cried,  as  I  strove  to  lift  her.  "You 
must  not  die  !  Speak,  mother !  speak !  Oh,  I 
shall  have  no  mother  !  " 

I  wiped  away  the  tear-drops  from  that  dear 
mother's  face,  and  blushed  off  the  snow  that 
looked  like  death's  winding-sheet  around  her. 
She  sighed,  opened  her  eyes,  and  gasped,  "No 
mother!  no  mother!"  and  sank  back.  The 
winds  echoed  through  the  leafless  forest,  "No 
2 


18  SHA.DCTWY  HAND;  OR, 

mother!  no  mother!"  And  the  little  snow-bird, 
seeking  a  shelter  in  the  thicket,  chirped,  "No 
mother  !  no  mother  ! "  .The  gathering  darkness 
Deemed  to  foreshadow  the  gloom  and  desolation 
of  one  who  was  soon  to  have  "  no  mother  !  " 

Suddenly  she  came  to  her  senses,  saying,  "I 
will  not  despond  !  Though  He  slay  me  yet  will 
I  trust  in  Him.  '  Never  too  poor  to  pray  ! '  '  Never 
too  weak  to  win  ! '  I  will  hope  against  Hope.  I 
have  something  yet  to  live  for.  I  will  live  for 
thee,  my  brave  boy,  brave  beyond  thy  j'ears. 
You  have  cheered  your  poor  mother's  heart,  filled 
her  soul  with  joy."  Then  placing  her  hand 
fondly  on  my  head,  she  continued :  "  A  mother's 
prayer  shall  follow  thee,  a  mother's  shadow  be  over 
thee  and  protect  thee  as  the  wing  of  the  Almighty." 

Thus  was  I  consecrated  to  poverty  and  storm. 
That  " SHADOWY  HAND"  has  ever  pointed  to  the 
star  of  hope  on  the  tempestuous  sea  of  life. 
That  "Shadowy  Hand"  has  safely  led  me  over 
the  quicksands,  the  reefs,  the  rocks  and  shoals  of 
temptation  and  sin.  All  I  am,  and  own,  and 
hope  for  in  life,  I  owe,  under  God,  to  that 
"Shadowy  Hand." 

An  old  dilapidated  store,  which  had  been  robbed 
of  its  merchandise,  was  offered  us  as  a  shelter. 
Thither  we  went.  The  pristine  beauty  of  that 
old  wooden  building  had  never  beeit  embellished 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  19 

•with  paint.  The  auger  holes  in  the  shutters,  the 
shattered  appearance  of  doors  and  hinges,  showed 
plainly  the  violence  used  in  robbing  it,  equalled 
only  by  Time's  ravages  upon  the  shingles,  clap- 
boards and  rafters.  The  fence  around  the  build- 
ing was  made  of  rough  rails,  and  everything  bore 
evidence  of  neglect  and" decay.  Here  mother  and 
I  commenced  anew  to  battle  with  the  stern,  sober 
realities  of  life.  Here  I  received  the  rudiments 
of  education,  and  first  knowledge  of  books.  Here, 
in  gazing  at  the  stars  through  the  shingles  of  the 
roof,  I  took  my  first  lessons  in  Astronomy,  and 
gained  my  first  idea  of  the  sublime.  Here  twelve 
of  the  happiest  years  of  my  life-  were  spent  in 
studying  plans  for  the  future,  in  climbing  the 
ledges,  trees,  and  waterfalls,  watching  the  thunder- 
clouds, and  wandering  in  lone  musings  over  the 
hills  about  that  old  dwelling,  surrounded,  as  it 
was,  by  dense  forests.  There,  yet  remain  the 
trees  of  my  planting,  which  have  grown  with  my 
growth  ;  and  there  also  stands  the  rock  which  was 
the  rostrum  of  my  early  declamation,  where,  with 
"  shape  and  gesture  proudly  eminent,"  I  recited 
Milton  to  the  cabbasre-heads  : 


o 


"  His  look  drew  audience,  and  attention  still  as  night." 
"For  he  in  height  or  depth  still  first  and  last  sole  king." 


20  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 


CHAPTER    II. 

Howwe  lived  in  the  Old  Store. — Mother's  Industry.  —  My 
Early  Education. — Mother's  Love  versus  Whip  and  Lash  of 
Servitude.  —  Mother's  Sickness.  —  Went  for  Fuel.  —  Lost 
in  the  Woods.  —  Blinded  by  Storm.  —  Light  in  the  Window. 

HIR !  whir!  whir!"  went  the  spindle  of 
my  mother's  spinning-wheel,  as  the 
wheel-pin  struck  the  revolving  wheel, 
whirling  merrily  in  onr  new  home. 
"Twirl!  twirl!  twirl!"  went  the  wheel,  and 
"Whir!  whir!  whir!"  went  the  spindle,  as  my 
mother  tripped  up  and  down  the  floor  with  the 
roll  of  wool  in  her  hand  distending  and  expand- 
ing into  yarn. 

The  old  store,  by  my  mother's  magic  influence, 
had  now  become  a  comfortable  home.  Though 
destitute  of  architectural  beauty,  yet  what  taste 
could  suggest,  what  energy  and  perseverance 
could  accomplish,  whatever  could  be  done  without 
money,  was  done  by  the  genius  of  a  mother's 
transforming  hand.  The  portico,  and  lattice-work 
over  the  clapboards,  and  every  window  that  was 
open  to  the  sun,  were  hung  with  vines  of  morning- 
glories  and  honeysuckle.  The  garden-walks  were 
lined  with  pinks,  roses,  holly-hocks,  sunflowers, 


**** 

.=*•  --  _f«r 


How  -WE  LIVED  IN  THE  OLD  STORE. 

"Whir!  whir!  whir!  went  the  spindle, 
Twirl !  twirl !  twirl !  went  the  wheel."    Page  20. 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  21 

•md  all  the  common  varieties  of  flowers.  Birds 
were  skipping  and  -humming  from  bough  to  bough. 
All  nature  seemed  to  smile. 

"  Whir  !  whir  !  whir  ! "  went  the  spindle.  "Twirl ! 
twirl !  twirl ! "  went  the  wheel,  as  my  mother, 
keeping  time,  was  singing  revival  hymns  from 
the  old  Methodist  hymn-book  as  she  paced  the 
floor  back  and  forth  from  the  spindle,  holding 
the  roll  and  watching  the  growing  fibres  twisting 
into  yarn.  "  Snap  I  snap  !  snap  I "  went  the  spring 
of  the  reel,  as  knot  after  knot  was  reeled  from  the 
spindle  and  folded  into  a  skein. 

My  mother  was  the  embodiment  of  industry. 
She  plied  the  needle,  took  in  spinning  and  knit- 
ting, gathered  nuts  and  berries.  She  also  dried 
apples,  raised  her  own  vegetables,  and,  by  thrift 
and  economy,  obtained  a  comfortable  support. 
After  a  time  we  were  enabled  to  keep  a  cow  and 
pig,  and  some  fowls  ;  also  a  hive  of  bees.  Then 
it  was  that  we  thought  we  lived  in  luxury,  and  fed 
on  the  milk  and  honey  of  the  land. 

How  sweetly  the  spring  birds  sang  as  they 
came  and  lit  near  the  windows  of  that  peaceful, 
humble  home !  How  merrily  they  carolled  to 
the  echo  of  the  fireside  music  within!  Oh,  how 
happy  was  my  mother  at  her  mine  of  wealth,  the 
spinning-wheel !  "  Whir  I  whir  !  whir  ! "  went  the 
spindle  I  "  Snap  I  snap  I  snap  ! "  went  the  reel, 


22  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

as  skein  after  skein  was  added  to  her  store  from 
Monday  morning  until  Saturday  night. 

As  we  lived  several  miles  from  any  church  or 
academy,  I  depended  wholly  upon  my  mother  for 
my  early  instruction.  I  was  the  idol  of  her  heart, 
the  centre  of  her  affections.  She  was  all  love,  all 
hope,  ever  repeating,  "Hope  against  Hope,  my 
boy  I  "  She  took  an  interest  in  all  my  little  sports. 
"Where  I  played  was  her  Eden.  Where  she  looked 
on  to  cheer,  was  my  Paradise.  I  wanted  no  other 
companion,  she  wanted  no  other  society.  Home 
was  heaven.  When  I  recited  well,  "Bravo,  my 
boy  !  "  Then,  for  her  sake  I  tried  to  do  better ; 
all  my  faculties  were  exerted  to  excel ;  I  was 
bound  to  be  a  "great  man"  Her  praise  was 
more  to  me  than  gold,  her  smiles  of  approval 
brighter  than  the  stars. 

"  You  are  getting  on  bravely  my  boy !  You 
will  become  a  preacher,  I  guess  !  " 

"I'll  study  hard,  mother.  I'm  bound  to  be 
*  Somebody!'" 

Thus  was  my  better  nature  developed. 

When  I  guessed  the  riddle,  solved  the  problem, 
mastered  the  multiplication-table,  "Excelsior!" 
"  Hurrah  for  Andrew  JacJcson  !  "  How  she  laughed 
in  triumph,  almost  smothering  me  with  kisses. 
She  hugged  me,  rocked  me  from  side  to  side,  arid 
said,  "You  will  be  the  President  yet.  You  little 
chicken,  you're  worth  your  weight  in  gold  1 " 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  23 

Then  she  clasped  me  in  her  warm  embrace,  her 
curls  playing  Upon  my  forehead,  and  her  eyes 
glistening  with  pride  and  joy. 

Thus  was  I  schooled,  in  the  great  forces  that 
move  mankind,  —  soul-forces,  heart-forces.  I 
was  monarch  of  my  mother's  heart.  I  held  the 
key  to  the  fountain  of  her  pleasure.  I  unlocked 
hidden  stores  of  energy,  wealth  and  love.  When 
I  did  right,  all  things  conspired  to  help  me : 
nature,  mother,  God,  and  good  angels.  When  I 
did  wrong,  I  was  checked  immediately ;  warned 
before  sin  got  the  mastery. 

Who  says  that  the  influences  of  such  a  mother 
are  not  better  than  whip  and  lash  of  servitude,  or 
the  huddling  together  of  fatherless  boys  in  reform- 
atory institutions,  where  crime  begets  crime?  I 
have  spent  years  preaching  to  prisoners,  and 
educating  news-boys,  and  know  the  cause  of  their 
troubles  and  crimes.  They  had  no  mother's 
"Shadowy  Hand." 

Yet  in  the  "old  store"  we  experienced  the  bitter 
with  the  sweet.  My  mother,  anxious  to  provide 
for  winter,  overtaxed  herself.  On  a  fine  day  in 
autumn  might  be  seen  hanging  all  over  the  build- 
ing strings  of  apples,  pared  and  quartered  for  dry- 
ing. These  took  the  place  of  the  vines  of  the 
honeysuckle  and  morning-glory,  making  the  dwell- 
ing more  picturesque  than  beautiful.  When  winter 


24  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

set  in,  and  storms  came,  these  apples  must  bo 
dried  in  the  house.  The  dampness  caused  by 
them  brought  on  a  cold,  then  a  fever,  and  once 
more  my  mother  lay  bv  the  border-land,  near 
unto  death. 

"  The  man  has  not  brought  the  wood,  my  boy," 
she  whispered  tremulously.  "What  shall  we  do 
for  morning  fire  ?  " 

"I'll  try,  mother,  to  get  some  with  my  hand- 
sled,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  But  it  is  getting  dark.  I  fear  to  have  you  go 
into  the  woods  to-night." 

"I  can  pick  up  a  few  broken  limbs,"  I  rejoined. 

She  called  me  to  her  side,  and  said,  "Well, 
you  may  go,"  as  she  reached  out  her  pale  hand 
and  placed  it  upon  my  head.  Oh,  the  magic  of 
that  "Shadowy  Hand"!  With  that  "Shadowy 
Hand"  upon  me  I  could  go  anywhere,  do  anything. 
When  that  hand  anointed  me — when  that  was  my 
shield — then  danger  was  not  to  be  feared,  darkness 
had  no  terrors,  and  affliction  was  deprived  of 
half  its  pain. 

As  I  started  to  go  out,  "Don't  be  gone  long, 
get  just  enough  for  morning;  hurry  back,  my 
boy  ! " 

Never  had  my  mother  appeared  so  dear  to  me 
as  on  that  cold  winter's  night.  I  gathered  a  few 
broken  limbs  that  had  fallen  from  the  trees, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  25 

fastened  them  upon  my  sled,  and  started  for  home, 
It  commenced  snowing;  I  groped  in  the  dark, 
lost  my  "way,  and  became  alarmed.  I  cried  aloud, 
but  there  was  no  human  car  to  hear.  Had  my 
mother  heard  me,  she  could  not,  in  her  helpless- 
ness, have  come  to  my  rescue.  At  last,  arriving 
upon  a  little  knoll,  I  climbed  a  tree,  and  through 
the  blinding  snow  saw  a  light.  It  was  the  beacon- 
light  of  hope.  Mother  had  risen  from  her  sick- 
bed and  placed  a  light  in  the  window  for  her  lost 
boy.  Guided  by  that  light,  I  reached  home  in 
safety ;  and  the  light  from  that  window  has  been 
as  a  light  to  my  path  and  a  lamp  to  my  feet  ever 
since,  shielding  me  from  peril,  temptation  and 
crime. 

Forty  years  afterwards  I  held  a  wood-meeting, 
and  preached  in  that  same  grove  by  the  side  of 
that  sainted  mother's  grave,  where  we  sang  — 

"  There's  a  light  in  the  window  for  thee. 
A  mother  has  gone  to  the  mansion  above  ; 
There's  a  light  in  the  window  for  thee." 

People  assembled  from  far  and  near,  some 
coming  as  far  as  sixteen  miles ;  a  vast  concourse 
in  that  hallowed  grove.  When  I  looked  for  the 
companions  of  my  youth,  where  were  they? 
Echo  answered,  "Wlterel"  Like  the  forest-trees 


26  SHADOWY  HAND;   OR, 

around  mo,  they  had  been  cut  down.  Vice  had 
laid  them  low.  But  for  that  light  of  love,  held 
in  that  "Shadowy  Hand"  over  me,  I  might  have 
shared  their  fate. 


T-TFE-STKUGGLES.  27 


CHAPTER    III. 

My  Consecration  in  the  Old  School-house.  — Its  Effect  on  rae 
there.  —  Its  Realization  in  after  Years.  — Violent  Death  of 
my  Companions.  —  Uncle's  Reformation.  —  Farm-life.  — 
Store-life.  —  Tavern-life.  —  Litigations.  —  My  Danger. 

came,  my  mother  slowly  recov- 
ered, and  now  was  to  perform  the  great 
act  of  her  life. 

Two  miles  from  our  humble  home  was 
a  little  old  school-house  in  which  the  Methodists 
held  meetings  once  a  mouth.  Thither  she  had 
brought  me  to  consecrate  me  in  baptism  to  God. 

"Will  you  bring  him  up  in  the  nurture  and 
admonition  of  the  Lord  ?  "  said  the  preacher. 

"I  will,  God  being  my  helper  !  "  responded  my 
mother,  in  tears.  "  May  my  boy  live  to  become 
a  preacher  of  the  gospel !  Like  little  Samuel,  I'll 
bring  him  up  for  the  Temple  of  the  Lord  ! " 

She  folded  me  closely  to  her  bosom,  and  shower- 
ing kisses  on  me,  she  repeated,  "May  my  boy  live 
to  become  a  preacher  of  the  gospel !  " 

I  never  shall  forget  the  angelic  expression  of  my 
dear  mother's  countenance.  Her  finely-chiselled 
features,  though  paled  by  deepest  sorrow,  shone 
with  heavenly  love.  The  little  sparkling  jewel, 


28  SHADOWY    HAND  ;    OE, 

holding  back  the  truant   curl   on  her  forehead 

o 

looked  like  the  star  of  Hope  on  the  brow  of  Despair , 
a  radiance  of  joy,  shining  through  her  storm  of 
grief,  making  her  tears  a  rainbow  of  promise, 
lighted  up  her  countenance  with  the  supernatural, 
as  one  walking  under  the  shadow  of  tribulation, 
yet  holding  sweet  communion  with  God. 

"In  the  name  of  the  Father,  Son,  and  Hoty 
Ghost." 

As  the  minister  marked  the  cross  upon  my 
forehead,  and  the  water  trickled  down  my  face,  he 
pronounced  a  blessing.  I  trembled  from  head  to 
foot.  After  baptism  was  a  mother's  consecration. 
She  had  just  come  from  planting  flowers  upon  my 
father's  grave.  Overwhelmed  by  an  avalanche  of 
sorrow,  weeping  bitterly  with  choking  utterance, 
she  said,  holding  me  by  the  hand,  "  I  have  been 
sorely  afflicted.  The  strong  arm  I  leaned  upon 
lies  palsied  in  the  grave.  The  hopes  of  my  youth 
have  set  in  night.  Sickness  has  laid  me  low,  and, 
like  a  conflagration,  swept  away  my  substance. 
Poverty  hath  broken  in  as  a  troop.  1  stand  bereft 
of  every  earthly  hope.  My  afflictions  are  greater 
ihan  I  can  bear." 

Overcome  with  grief,  wringing  her  hands  in 
agony,  she  sank  back  on  her  seat,  crying,  "My 
God  !  my  God  !  Why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me  ?  " 

"  All  is  not  lost,"  said  the  preacher,  "  God  has 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  29 

not  utterly  cast  you  off.  Your  boy  may  be  your 
comfort,  your  stuff,  your  Samuel  and  your  Moses." 

"Yea,  though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in 
Him,"  was  the  hopeful  response  of  my  mother. 
Then  rising  and  placing  her  hand  upon  my  head, 
consecrating  me  and  dedicating  me  to  some  holy 
commission,  she  said,  "0  Lord!  here  is  the 
child  Thou  gavest  me  ;  a  gem  from  the  wreck  of 
hopes,  the  sole  comfort  of  a  bereaved  mother. 
His  bark  is  launched  upon  a  sea  of  temptation. 
Winds  of  adverse  fortune  already  assail  him. 
Dangerous  reefs  lie  in  his  course.  Be  Thou 
at  the  helm,  O  God !  I  live  only  to  fulfil  a 
mother's  charge.  Take  Thou  this  child.  I  lend 
him  to  Thee.  Upon  this  altar  I  consecrate  him 
to  Thee,  and  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ." 

"  Amen  !  Amen  ! "  said  the  preacher,  placing 
his  hand  with  hers  upon  my  head.  "  Amen  !  God 
be  praised !  May  the  Lord  accept  the  widow's 
offering,  and  sanctify  her  boy  ! "  Oh  !  what  an 
unction  I  received.  I  felt  I  was  commissioned 
for  some  great  work.  I  felt  a  thrill  of  holy  joy, 
down,  down,  to  the  very  depths  of  my  soul.  A 
heavenly  peace  rested  upon  me,  and  a  "  Shadowy 
Hand  "  was  pointing  me  up  to  God. 

I  could  get  no  sleep  that  night.  My  dreams 
were  disturbed  by  golden  visions  of  the  far-off 
future  flashing  through  my  mind.  I  pictured  my- 
self already  at  work  in  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord. 


30  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

Yet  I  did  not  fully  realize  my  consecration, 
nor  my  mother's  devotion,  until  some  eight  years 
after,  when  sin  had  assailed  me,  when  I  saw  my 
boon  companions,  one  by  one,  leaping  into  the 
giddy  whirl  of  folly,  dashing  on  the  circling 
eddies  of  sin  and  dissipation,  struggling  against 
the  vortex  of  crime,  until  at  last  they  went  under. 
I  was  like  the  messenger  of  Job  ;  "  I  have  escaped 
alone  to  tell  the  news."  Then  I  realized  that  a 
mother's  "  Shadowy  Hand  "  was  the  palladium  of 
my  hopes. 

Strong  drink  was  the  curse  of  the  town.  One 
of  my  school-mates  fell  from  the  tavern  window 
one  Sunday,  and  died.  The  clerk  of  the  tavern, 
one  of  the  brightest  of  young  men,  was  killed 
by  strong  drink.  My  nearest  neighbors,  a  father, 
mother,  and  three  sons  squandered  a  large  estate, 
and  lost  their  lives  by  gaming  and  drinking. 
The  next  neighbor's  estate  was  wasted.  A  father 
and  two  sons  filled  a  drunkard's  grave. 

Over  the  hill  from  the  tavern,  yet  nearest  to  it, 
lived  a  shoemaker.  In  fact  he  lived  too  near 
the  tavern  for  his  own  good.  He  had  meadows 
and  orchards,  —  lived  on  a  beautiful  site  ;  but  one 
after  the  other  his  lots  of  land  were  sold,  and  his 
dwelling  went  under  the  hammer.  Hum  had  con- 
sumed them  all.  The  home  was  broken  up,  the 
children  scattered,  the  wife  became  a  wanderer, 
while  her  husband  tottered  to  his  grave. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  31 

In  the  midst  of  this  moral  degradation,  there 
was  now  and  then  a  gleam  of  light.  A  few  persons 
were  given  to  praying,  a  few  were  temperate  and 
industrious.  My  mother  opened  her  door  for 
religious  meetings,  but  they  had  little  effect  upon 
the  community.  There  was  one  good  fruit  of  her 
efforts,  however,  worth  a  thousand  times  her  toils  ; 
my  uncle,  in  whose  "old  store"  we  lived,  began 
to  see  the  baleful  influence  of  strong  drink !  he, 
himself,  had  been  a  mighty  sufferer  in  mind,  body 
and  estate.  A  guardian  was  placed  over  him, 
with  whom  he  lived  till  now.  lie  came  to  live 
with  us .  Here  the  spirit  of  the  living  God  wrought 
upon  him,  and  brought  him  to  repentance. 

I  worked  awhile  with  him  upon  the  farm,  yet 
farm-life  was  distasteful  to  me.  I  thirsted  for 
knowledge.  I  wanted  a  change.  Farm-knowledge 
is  soon  acquired.  I  had  learned  when  to  sow,  to 
reap,  to  mow;  when  to  plant  and  hoe.  I  knew 
how  to  plow,  graft  trees,  and  how  to  build  fences  : 
stone-fences,  rail-fences,  board-fences,  post-fences. 
I  could  mow  and  rake  ;  and  though  but  a  boy  of 
fourteen  years,  I  boasted  of  cradling  two  acres 
in  a  day.  What  more  could  I  learn  at  farming? 

I  got  a  situation  at  the  store  and  tavern.  Hero 
I  learned  the  cost-mark,  the  salc's-mark ;  I  could 
tie  up  parcels,  weigh  sugar  and  tea,  deal  out 
liquids,  measure  tape,  and  keep  accounts.  Yet  I 


32  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

thirsted  for  more  knowledge.  As  there  was  more 
law  than  gospel  in  the  town,  I  learned  the  rudi- 
ments of  civil  and  criminal  law.  I  could  tell  how 
much  was  the  witness-fee,  how  mnch  allowed  for 
travel,  what  constituted  trespass,  and  who  was 
the  guilty  party  in  a  case  of  assault  and  battery.  I 
learned  how  to  testify  in  court,  and  how  to  plead 
a  case.  I  was  often  employed  in  copying  docu- 
ments and  subpoenaing  witnesses ;  I  could  tell 
what  would  be  the  trespass  for  travelling  over 
neighbor  Smith's  lot,  and  neighbor  Smith  knew, 
for  he  kept  a  law-book,  —  the  only  book  he  had. 
There  was  a  perfect  mania  for  suits.  A  grievance 
inflicted  was  sure  to  be  followed  by  an  action  for 
damages. 

Mrs.  S.  had  reported  that  Miss  R.  "was  no 
better  than  she  ought  to  be."  This  caused  an 
action  for  slander,  resulting  in  three  trials,  two 
appeals,  and  a  final  award  of  damages  of  six 
cents.  Bill  had  stolen  Harry's  geese ;  there  was 
a  suit.  Mr.  Pilfer  would  steal  hay,  and  turn  his 
cattle  into  Mr.  Boggs's  clover.  Boggs,  in  turn, 
would  knock  down  Pilfer's  fence,  and  tear  up  his 
young  fruit-trees.  Then  came  a  lawsuit.  Bob 
Tilt  was  in  court :  said  that  while  at  the  tavern 
he  "advanced  backwards  and  was  knocked  down." 
There  was  a  case  of  assault  and  battery.  Mr. 
Allen,  Tom  Blake,  and  'Squire  Gushing  fell  into 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  33 

a  dispute  at  the  tavern,  about  the  tide  ;  Mr.  Allen 
said  "the  tide  was  raised  by  the  wind;  he'd  seen 
it  rise."  Blake  declared  "  it  riz  itself."  'Squire 
Gushing  said  "  no  man  living  could  tell  the  cause 
of  the  tide ;  one  man  had  tried,  and  died  in 
despair  upon  the  shore."  {Great  sensation.) 
Glasses  went  round,  a  war  of  words,  then  of 
blows,  then  a  suit.  The  tavern  was  a  moral  pes- 
tilence, a  prolific  source  of  crime.  I  was  in  dan- 
ger of  the  contagion.  Nothing  could  save  me  but 
a  mother's  midnight  prayer  and  her  "Shadowy 
Hand." 

R 


34  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 


CHAPTER    IV 

Gatherings  at  the  Tavern.  —  My  first  Disobedience.  —  A 
Mother's  Midnight  Prayer.  —  Thy  Vows  are  upon  me.  — 
Repentance.  —  Getting  ready  for  Academy. 

tavern  was  my  bane.  Its  fascinations 
were  fast  undermining  my  religious  char- 
acter. My  mother  became  alarmed.  She 
said,  "My  son,  I  cannot  allow  you  longer 
to  frequent  that  tavern  and  associate  with  those 
wicked  men  and  boys." 

"  I  shall  go  to-night,  anyhow  !  "  I  replied.  "All 
the  other  boys  go  to  the  tavern  as  often  as  they 
please,  and  why  not  I?  I  am  nearly  sixteen,  and 
old  enough  to  take  care  of  myself." 

Little  did  I  know  of  the  power  of  temptation, 
or  the  glittering  and  deadly  attractions  of  sin. 

"My  son,  you  must  not  go!  Mother  must 
warn  and  save  you." 

"  I  will  go  !  I'll  go  where  I  please  !  The  boys 
are  all  the  time  flinging  at  me  because  you  watch 
me  so  close." 

Seeing  I  was  determined,  and  that  all  entreaty 
would  be  in  vain,  she  said :  "  If  you  must  go, 
my  boy,  there  is  one  thing  only  left  for  me  ;  that 
is,  to  pray  for  you." 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  35 

w  I'm  going  to-night,  anyhow  !  "  I  repeated. 

"Mark  me  !  as  sure  as  you  go,  I  shall  pray  for 
you  until  you  come  back." 

"Then  you'll  pray  a  long  while,"  I  said. 

Following  me  out  into  the  street  as  far  as  the 
wagon-shed,  she  stopped,  and  said  :  "Ah,  my  boy, 
I  cannot  coerce  you,  but  I  can  pray  to  God  for 
help  !  He  can  stop  you  in  your  mad  career  !  He 
will  hear  a  widow's  prayer.  My  son,  as  sure  as 
you  do  go  I  shall  stay  here  and  pray  all  night,  if 
need  be, —  pray  until  3*011  come  back  a  changed 
boy." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  I  laughed  in  derision  ;  "  you  don't 
scare  me  in  this  way.  You  won't  stay  here  long 
in  the  cold  ; "  and,  buttoning  up  my  coat,  pulling 
on  my  mittens,  I  ran  up  the  hill,  full  speed, 
towards  the  tavern. 

I  found  my  companions,  as  I  expected.  Soon 
the  fun  commenced.  Checkers,  cards,  jokes  and 
witticisms  were  the  order  of  the  hour ;  and  woe 
to  the  loser  in  the  game,  for  he  had  to  stand  "treat." 

I  enjoyed  none  of  their  sports.  I  felt  guilty. 
I  knew  I  had  almost  broken  my  mother's  heart. 
I  wanted  to  go  home,  but  was  afraid  to,  face  that 
mother.  The  hours  dragged  heavtly.  Nine 
o'clock  came ;  some  of  the  crowd  left.  Ten 
o'clock  struck ;  now  I  must  go  back.  I  had  left 
mv  mother  in  ansrer.  Would  she  meet  me  with 

v  O 

forgiveness  ? 


36  SHADOWY    HAND  ;    OR, 

As  I  passed  over  the  hill,  the  frozen  hubs,  echo- 
ing to  my  footsteps,  seemed  to  say,  "  Stop  !  stop  I 
rash  boy,  you  are  breaking  your  mother's  heart." 
My  shadow  in  the  pale  moonlight  startled  and 
troubled  me.  The  sudden  screech  of  an  owl  filled 
me  with  fright.  I  was  alarmed  at  the  sound  of 
my  feet.  To  avoid  the  sound,  I  climbed  up  under 
the  fence,  upon  the  grass,  by  the  side  of  the  road, 
and  crept  stealthily  down  towards  the  wagon-shed. 
"Would  my  mother  keep  her  word  ?  I  never  knew 
her  to  break  it.  Would  she  wait  three  long  hours 
in  the  bitter  winter's  cold  ?  Had  she  such  faith  in 
prayer, —  such  trust  in  God  ?  Cautiously,  and  with 
wildly  beating  heart,  I  approached.  I  advanced 
step  by  step,  and  listened.  Drew  nearer  and 
nearer,  thought  I  saw  a  shadowy  form.  Hark  !  I 
heard  a  voice  !  I  listened,  was  startled  ;  listened 
breathlessly  again.  It  is!  it  is!  it  is  the  voice 
of  my  dear  mother.  There,  in  a  remote  corner  of 
the  shed,  she  stood,  with  upturned  face,  bathed  in 
tears,  pouring  out  her  soul  in  prayer  for  her  way- 
ward boy.  At  this  moment  two  men  came  along. 
I  overheard  them  say,  "That  boy  is  killing  his 
poor  mother ;  he  is  sending  her  to  the  grave." 

Is  it  possible  ?  thought  I ;  have  I  become  such  a 
wicked  boy  ?  Have  I  broken  my  poor  mother's 
heart  ? 

I  saw  b}'  the   glimpses  of  the   moon,  shining 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  37 

through  the  crevices,  her  shadowy  form,  and  I 
saw  her  "Shadowy  Hand"  pointing  to  heaven. 
That  "  Shadowy  Hand,"  wavering  and  trembling  in 
prayer  like  a  magician's  wand,  called  up  the  ghosts 
of  my  sins.  They  seemed,  in  the  shadows,  a  hid- 
eous troop.  Conscience-smitten,  I  stood  petrified 
at  the  sight. 

"  O  Lord,  have  mercy  on  my  son  !  Hear  the 
widow's  prayer !  Save  my  poor  fatherless  boy. 
He  is  on  the  broad  road  of  dissipation.  He  has 
crushed  his  mother's  heart !  " 

Her  words  fell  on  me  like  coals  of  fire.  I  felt 
condemned, —  a  criminal  of  deepest  dye.  I  could 
have  flown  to  her  side,  and  then  and  there  con- 
fessed all ;  told  her  I  was  sorry,  and  asked  her 
forgiveness  ;  mingled  my  tears  and  heart-sobs  with 
hers,  and  promised  never,  never  again,  as  long  as 
1  lived,  would  I  act  contrary  to  her  kind  and  lov- 
ing wishes.  But  I  was  spell-bound.  As  one  tied 
hand  and  foot,  I  could  not  move.  Oh,  the  agony 
of  my  soul ! 

She  continued  :  "  O  God,  let  me  die  if  I  must, 
but  save  my  wayward  boy.  He  will  not  listen  to 
his  poor  dying  mother's  pleadings.  He  will  not 
heed  her  warnings.  He  is  on  the  broad  road  to 
ruin.  He  sees  not  his  own  fate.  He  is  blinded  by 
sin.  He  tastes  not  of  the  cup  of  anguish  he  brings 
me.  Oh,  this  cup  I  this  bitter  cup  I  My  God, 


38  SHADOWY    HAND  ;    OR, 

check  him  in  his  mad  career !  Save  him  from  a 
drunkard's  doom  and  a  felon's  fate.  O  Lord,  Thy 
vows  are  upon  him.  I  have  dedicated  him  to  Thee. 
Let  him  not  be  lost.  May  thy  wing  of  protection 
be  as  a  mother's  '  Shadowy  Hand.' " 

Now,  with  a  bound,  I  broke  from  the  spell,  and 
threAV  myself  at  her  feet.  Seizing  her  hand,  I 
cried  :  "  Forgive  me  !  Oh,  forgive  your  erring  boy  I 
I  have  almost  killed  you,  dear  mother  ! " 

Then  winding  my  arm  around  her  neck,  and 
nestling  my  head  in  her  bosom,  sobbing  bitterly, 
I  unburdened  my  sorrowing  heart.  "  I  have  been 
very  wicked,  I  have  suffered  dreadfully  to-night ; 
but  I  will  never  do  so  again.  I  will  never  go  near 
that  tavern  without  your  consent.  You  will  for- 
give me,  mother,  won't  you?  Forgive  me  this 
once.  1  won't  cause  you  any  more  trouble." 

She  remained  silent.  Oh,  the  suspense  of  that 
moment !  Eternity  seemed  ticking  in  each  second  1 
Would  she  forgive  me? 

"It  is  bitterly  cold  here,  dear  mother.  I  feai 
you  will  freeze  to  death." 

Becoming  more  alarmed,  I  cried  passionately : 
"Oh,  speak  !  Speak,  mother  !  Tell  me,  will  you 
forgive  me  ?  " 

Pressing  my  hand,  and  melting  into  pity,  she 
said:  "Ah!  my  boy  !  The  vow!  the  vow!  My 
vow  is  upon  thee  I  The  vow  of  the  Almighty." 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  39 

"But  forgive  me,  —  do  forgive  me  this  once." 

"  I  do  forgive  you,  my  dear  boy.  May  God  for- 
give you ! " 

Then,  clasping  me  to  her  bosom,  her  shadowy 
form  bending  over  me,  I  felt  myself  in  a  castle ; 
once  more  was  I  shielded  from  harm,  by  the  magic 
of  her  "  Shadowy  Hand." 

She  led  the  way  silently  to  the  house ;  all  night 
long  she  talked  and  prayed  with  me. 

"How  can  I  see  you,  my  son,  ruined,  disgraced, 
lost?  Let  me  see  you  pine  away  and  die  rather 
than  become  a  convict,  an  outcast,  or  a  drunkard." 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  so,  mother  !  you  frighten  me," 
1  said. 

"I  must  talk,"  she  continued;  "I  am  deeply 
distressed  for  you.  Hear  me,  my  boy  I  My  life 
is  wrapt  up  in  yours.  I  have  nothing  to  live 
for  but  you.  For  fifteen  years  I  have  not  entered 
your  chamber  without  prayer.  I  have  not  parted 
with  you  at  evening,  bade  you  a  sweet  'good- 
night,' without  calling  God's  blessing  upon  my 
darling  child.  I  have  never  sung  your  merry 
songs,  never  opened  your  wardrobe,  never  read 
your  papers  and  writings,  never  taken  up  your 
Bible,  never  gazed  upon- your  picture,  never  spoke 
your  name,  but  I  have  prayed  God  to  bless  my 
dear  boy." 

"  I  know  it,  mother,  you  have  loved  me  dearly." 


40  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

"Yes,  my  son!  you  are  precious  in  the  sight 
of  Heaven ;  pledged  to  the  Saviour's  cause ;  set 
apart — consecrated  —  dedicated  to  God.  How 
can  I  see  such  a  child  lost  ?  " 

"I  am  not  lost,  mother!  I  will  try  and  be  a 
man  !  I  will  break  away  from  my  wicked  com- 
panions. I  will  leave  the  neighborhood,  do  any- 
thing you  bid  me,  go  anywhere,  if  you  advise 
it!" 

"Well,  my  boy!  if  you  were  to  leave  home 
where  would  you  go  ?  "  she  asked,  with  an  earnest, 
inquiring  look. 

"  I'll  get  an  education  !  I'll  be  a  school-master 
yet ! "  I  replied.  "  I'll  work  my  way  into  the 
Academy ! " 

"But  you  have  no  money  to  pay  your  board, 
and  mother  cannot  help  you." 

"  Then  I  Avill  earn  my  board.  I  will  work  hard 
for  it,  night  and  morning.  Others  Lave  had  to  do 
it,  and  I  will  do  it." 

"  Where  will  you  go  ?  Who  will  give  you  the 
chance,  my  boy  ?  " 

I  replied,  energetically,  "Lawyer  Belden,  of 
the  Centre,  wants  a  boy  to  do  jobs,  and  I  will 
go  there  ;  I  am  bound  to  make  my  living.  '  Never 
too  poor  to  pray,'  'Never  too  weak  to  win,' 
you  know,  mother." 

"  Well,  my  boy,  if  you  are  so  determined,  I 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  41 

will  consent  to  your  going.  A  mother's  love  will 
follow  you  wheresoever  }^ou  go  ;  and  may  God 
grant  that  her  'Shadowy  Hand'  be  over  you, 
ever  pointing  you  to  the  Lamb  of  God  thai>  takcth 
away  the  sins  of  the  world  !  n 


42  SHADOWY  HAND:  OR. 


CHAPTER    V. 

Leaving  Home.  —  "Shadowy  Hand."  —  Going  to  Lawyer 
Belden's.  —  Home-spun  verstts  Broadcloth.  —  First  Saluta- 
tion of  Students.  —  "Boots  !  Boots  ! "  —  Kick  from  Student. 
—  First  Declamation.  —  The  Horse  more  sympathizing  than 
the  Critics.  —  First  Failure.  —  Success  at  Last.  —  Inspiration 
of  a  Mother's  Hand. 

HE  hour  arrived  for  me  to  leave  home.  I 
must  go  out  from  under  the  "  Shadowy 
Hand,"  and  contend  in  "Life-Struggles," 
alone.  The  thoughts  of  leaving  the  "  old 
store,"  with  its  sweet  associations,  almost  over- 
whelmed me.  I  was  about  to  embark  upon  a  dark, 
untried  sea,  with  no  star  for  a  guide,  no  hand  at 
the  helm.  The  mother  that  had  led  me  to  the 
shore  of  youthful  responsibility  was  now  to  part 
from  me  upon  the  strand,  and  give  a  fond  fare- 
well. 

My  mother  had  gathered  together  my  scanty 
wardrobe,  a  little  box  of  buttons,  needles  and 
thread,  for  mending,  a  few  books,  and  a  small 
Bible  with  its  marked  passages.  Placing  them  in 
a  satchel,  she  drew  me  to  her  side  and  gave  her 
parting  blessing:  "Never  too  poor  to  pray,' 
'Never  too  weak  to  win,''  my  boy,"  she  said,  as  she 
printed  the  warm  kiss  upon  my  check,  her  eyes 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  43 

suffused  with  tears.  Then  placing  her  hand  upon 
my  head,  she  continued  :  "May  a  mother's  '  Shad- 
owy Hand'  be  over  thee,  as  the  wing  of  the  Al- 
mighty ! " 

As  I  went  out  of  that  door  with  all  my  earthly 
possessions,  clad  in  my  home-spun  suit  and  cow- 
hide boots,  satchel  in  hand,  I  cast  one  long,  linger- 
ing look  at  the  spot  where  I  passed  the  happiest 
days  of  my  life.  In  the  doorway  stood  my 
mother,  waving  a  sweet  good-by.  As  I  passed 
over  the  hill,  I  saw  her  "  Shadowy  Hand"  extended 
towards  me.  Her  benediction  inspired  mo  with 
hope,  and  nerved  me  on. 

I.  went  to  Lawyer  Belden,  in  the  Centre,  who 
employed  me  in  doing  odd  jobs  about  his  office, 
house  and  farm,  and  I  at  once  got  into  the  Acad- 
emy. Here  I  was  brought  into  society  altogether 
new  to  me.  Here,  for  the  first  time,  I  realized  the 
difference  between  broadcloth  and  home-span,  pat- 
ent leather  and  cow-hide.  I  confess  that  my 
clothes  were  rough  in  appearance,  a  little  too  large 
for  me,  being  made  to  fit  me  next  year.  My  boots 
were  coarse  and  stout,  and  never  were  embellished 
with  blacking ;  yet,  as  my  mother  had  spun  the 
yarn,  wove  the  cloth,  and  made  the  suit  from  black 
sheep's  wool,  and  as  my  boots  kept  the  water  out, 
I  prized  them  highly.  I  was  perfectly  contented ; 
I  envied  no  man  his  broadcloth. 


44  SHADOWY    HANT>;    OK, 

A  number  of  the  students  were  sons  of  ricli 
planters  from  Virginia,  who  at  once  took  umbrage 
at  my  rough  home-spun  and  unpolished  manners. 
Many  a  bitter  fling  I  received  at  their  hands.  My 
first  salute,  when  joining  their  sports  on  the  village 
green,  was  anything  but  complimentary.  As  I 
took  up  the  bat,  one  of  the  students  cried,  "  Boots  ! 
Boots  ! "  and  gave  me  a  kick.  Nearly  all  the  stu- 
dents followed  suit  in  calling  me  "  Boots  !  Boots  !  " 
In  this  I  saw  a  contrived  plan  to  nickname  me  and 
disgrace  me.  I  dropped  the  bat,  left  the  field,  and 
from  that  day  to  this  I  have  never  joined  in  a  game 
of  ball,  or  any  other  game  save  one.  In  after 
years,  while  teaching  school,  a  worthy  lady  re- 
buked me  for  playing  checkers.  She  said  :  "If  I 
had  the  talent  you  have  for  doing  good,  I  would 
spend  my  hours  better  than  wasting  them  at  the 
checker-board." 

That  was  my  last  indulgence  ;  I  resolved  to  fore- 
go my  own  pleasure  for  the  good  of  others.  My 
life  has  been  one  of  continued  struggle  and  self- 
denial, — a  lonely  bachelor-life,  without  even  the 
luxury  of  a  cigar. 

The  kick  from  that  Academy  student  came  near 
making  a  lawyer  of  me.  Every  spare  moment  at 
Lawyer  Beldeu's  office  was  spent  in  study.  I  had 
only  one  weapon  of  retaliation :  that  was  to  excel 
in  recitations,  —  to  beat  them.  By  hard  labor  I  did 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  45 

it.  It  was  home-spun  versus  broadcloth.  One 
thing  I  failed  in  —  that  was  the  very  art  I  was 
destined  to  pursue  through  life — that  of  public 
speaking. 

The  assistant  teacher  in  the  Academy,  Miss 
Foote,  selected  for  me  to  declaim  an  extract  from 
Blair's  sermon  on  the  "  Slippery  Paths  of  Youth." 
I  committed  it,  and  began  to  rehearse  it  in  the  sta- 
ble, before  the  horse.  I  took  for  my  rostrum  the 
box  which  held  his  feed,  and  commenced.  The 
horse  at  once  took  a  deep  interest,  and  directed  his 
attention  to  the  box ;  he  watched  every  move  and 
gesture,  and  manifested  his  approval  by  frequent 
whinnyings  and  whisks  of  his  tail.  He  rolled  his 
large  intelligent  eye,  stamped  his  foot,  and  seemed 
as  if  he  wanted  to  say,  "  Good  !  Good  !  Bravo  I 
That's  first-rate  !  " 

The  first  rule  of  oratory  is  attention.  This 
time,  if  but  a  horse,  I  had  his  attention.  As  my 
first  auditor,  I  felt  he  had  taken  an  unparalleled 
interest  in  my  performance,  and  these  demonstra- 
tions were  his  style  of  expressing  his  satisfaction. 
When  I  became  enthusiastic,  and  stamped  on  the 
box  where  his  food  was,  the  horse  would  neigh  in 
approbation,  and  I  was  encouraged  to  proceed. 
The  climax  of  applause,  however,  was  reached  at 
the  close  of  the  piece,  as  I  came  down  from  the  box. 
I  was  greeted  with  the  loudest  and  heartiest  of 


iQ  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

whinny  ings.  I  was  in  ecstasy  at  my  success. 
Alas  !  the  bubble  burst  when  I  found  that  the 
horse  had  been  only  neighing  for  his  oats.  If  I 
had  fed  the  horse  at  first,  I  should  have  had  no  ap- 
plause. 

Too  much  elated  by  my  success  before  the  horse, 
I  went  too  confidently  upon  the  platform.  This 
was  my  first  public  declamation ;  I  should  have 
been  doubly  perfect  in  the  piece  ;  I  knew  not  the 
terrible  ordeal.  Critics  are  not  horses.  The  crit- 
ical, upturned  faces  of  the  students  and  spectators 
scared  me.  All  eyes  seemed  daggers.  I  started 
to  say,  "The  slippery  paths  of  youth,"  but  could 
only  articulate,  "  The  slip  —  the  slip  —  the  slip," 
and  I  let  it  slip.  I  forgot  the  very  first  line.  The 
room  seemed  to  turn  and  whirl  round  and  round ; 
the  students  tittered  and  laughed ;  I  thought  they 
were  crying  "Boots  !  Boots  !  "  I  burst  into  tears, 
left  the  stage,  and  sat  down  and  sobbed  bitterly 
in  shame  and  mortification. 

Miss  Foote  pitied  me  and  caressed  me,  and  said, 
!"  Never  too  weak  to  win,  my  boy;'  'Try.  try 
again."  Her  words  of  cheer  were  more  to  me 
than  gold.  Once  in  after-life,  when  I  had  become  a 
preacher,  I  experienced  a  similar  sensation.  My 
text  was,  "Ephraim  is  joined  to  his  idols.  Let 
him  alone."  And  I  did  let  him  alone.  Those 
inspiring  words  of  Miss  Foote,  "Try,  try,  again," 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  47 

rang  in  my  ears.  Lawyer  Belden  said,  when  I 
arrived  from  school,  "Well,  my  boy,  you  made  a 
failure  of  it ;  are  you  going  to  give  up  ? ' 

"  No,  sir  !  Like  Sheridan,  it's  in  me,  and  it's  got 
to  come  out." 

"  Well  said,  my  boy  ;  '  JVil  desperandum.''  Press 
on  ;  at  the  next  exhibition  you  will  excel ;  I  will 
be  there  to  aid  you." 

I  studied  hard,  and  recited  frequently  before  my 
employer,  who  gave  me  many  valuable  sugges- 
tions. At  the  closing  exhibition  of  the  school, 
my  mother  came  up  to  encourage  me  and  take  me 
home.  Hard  study  had  attenuated  my  frame ; 
my  clothing,  which  had  been  made  too  large,  was 
now  doubly  so. 

My  mother  said  :  "  My  poor  boy,  you  are  a  mere 
shadow  of  your  former  self.  Hard  study  and  hard 
work  have  reduced  you  almost  to  a  skeleton. 
Your  clothes  seem  falling  off  from  you.  I  know 
you  must  have  struggled  hard,  and  suffered  dread- 
fully. Your  health  is  broken  ;  you  need  a  little 
rest.  Mother  and  you  will  be  together  again,  in 
the  happy  scenes  and  passing  sweet  hours  of  enjoy- 
ment in  the  dear  '  old  store.'  " 

"  But,  mother,  I  can't  remain  idle.  I  am  resolved 
to  earn  a  livelihood,  and  leave  my  mark  in  the 
world." 

"That  is  noble,  my  boy.     May  God  grant  that 


48  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

you  may  become  a. preacher  of  the  gospel,  and 
carry  tidings  of  joy  and  gladness  to  many  a  broken- 
hearted soul !  But  you  must  be  carr ful  of  your 
health,  my  precious  child.  Oh,  how  could  I  see 
you  pine  away  and  die  !  It  would  break  your  poor 
mother's  heart,  it  would  send  her  to  her  grave.  I 
would  not  wish  to  live  if  my  dear  boy  should  b^ 
taken  from  me.  May  God  forgive  me  if  I  make 
an  idol  of  you  !  but  you  are  the  apple  of  my  eye  ; 
my  whole  being  is  wrapt  up  in  you." 

"Dear  mother,  your  'Shadowy  Hand'  has  ever 
been  over  me  and  sustained  me.  I  will  remember 
your  mottoes  to  the  end  of  life  ;  they  shall  be  my 
guiding-star  through  all  my  'Life-Struggles.'" 

As  the  bell  rang  for  me  to  go  into  the  Academy, 
she  clasped  me  in  her  arms,  kissed  rne,  and  said  : 
"'Never  too  weak  to  win,  my  boy;'  mother  will 
pray  for  your  success." 

The  dreaded  moment  arrived  when  I  was  again 

o 

to  face  an  audience.  Now  came  the  decisive  hour ; 
if  I  failed  this  time  there  was  no  hope  for  me. 
No  one  would  assist  me  in  reaching  the  goal  of  my 
ambition.  "  O  God,  care  Thou  for  the  fatherless 
child  !  "  was  my  inward  prayer. 
Miss  Foote  had  often  said  to  me,  — 

"  With  God  to  speed  the  right, 
There's  no  such  word  as  fail." 

And  I  took  hope. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  49 

As  I  went  upon  the  platform,  I  saw  Lawyer 
Belden  with  encouraging  smile,  and  there,  right 
in  front  of  me,  sat  my  mother.  As  I  made  my 
bow,  she  waved  that  "Shadowy  Hand,"  which 
inspired  me  with  confidence.  .  Oh,  what  in- 
spiration I  felt  from  that  mother's  hand !  Now 
my  whole  mind  was  upon  my  piece.  I  was  lost 
in  my  theme ;  all  else  was  a  blank.  When  I 
came  down  from  the  platform  I  saw  many  that 
were  bathed  in  tears.  The  warm  recognition  of 
those  spectators  was  more  to  me,  than  the  loudest 
applause  of  after  years. 

My  mother  congratulated  me  upon  my  success, 
and  took  me  home.  She  urged  me  to  persevere, 
and  perfect  my  education. 

If — thought  I  —  if  I  should  become  a  school- 
master, then  I  could  grasp  the  keys  of  knowledge 
and  unlock  the  temple  of  fame  itself.  If — thought 
I  —  if  I  can  only  get  the  first  chance  ! 

The  idea  of  teaching  became  almost  a  mania 
with  me.  A  school-master  !  Never  did  the  office  of 
Governor,  Senator,  or  President  appear  so  inviting 
to  the  politician  as  did  that  of  school-master  to 
me.  All  my  relatives  and  friends  were  opposed 
to  the  experiment,  except  my  mother.  They 
said  "  I  wasn't  big  enough ;  didn't  know  enough  ; 
wasn't  yet  sixteen  ;  was  three  inches  shorter  than 
other  boys  of  the  same  age." 
4 


50  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

My  mother's  motto  was,  "'Hope  against  hope ; ' 
'There  is  no  such  word  as  fail  P  my  boy." 

I  resolved  to  exert  every  effort  to  become  a 
school-master;  then,  if  I  didn't  succeed,  Heaven 
help  me  1 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  51 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Anxious  io  become  a  School-master. — Discouragements. — 
Travelling  on. Foot  and  travelling  on  Horseback. — Female 
Teachers.  —  "If  I  had  only  been  a  Girl."  —  Appeal  on  the 
Ox  Cart. — Mr.  Goodscll  yields  to  the  poor  Boy's  Plea. — 
Authority  for  teaching  in  Hopewell.  —  Small  Pay  and 
"Boarding  Hound." 

Y  sixteenth  birthday  found  me  travelling 
on  foot  through  the  various  towns  of 
Fairfield  County,  mud  almost  knee-deep, 
seeking  for  a  chance  to  teach.  Many 
were  the  rebuffs  I  met.  Day  after  day  I  went 
without  the  slighcst  shadow  of  encouragement. 
Upon  returning  home,  exhausted,  foot-weary, 
head-whirling,  still  thinking  of  the  sneering  allu- 
sions to  my  clothes, —  "they  are  too  big  for  you," 
—  ringing  in  my  ears,  almost  prostrated  me.  I 
feared  I  must  give  up  in  despair. 

My  mother  would  meet  me  with  a  sweet  smile, 
and  say,  "'Hope  against  Hope,'  my  boy. 

*  "What  though  on  homely  fare  we  dine, 
"Wear  hoddin  gray,  and  a'  that  ; 
Give  fools  their  silks,  and  knaves  their  wine, 
'  A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that,  for  a'  that.' 

"It's  not  the  coat,"   she   said,  "but  the  man 
it  covers,  my  child.     Make  the  coat  honorable 


52  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

by  your  conduct.  Take  courage,  my  boy ;  pray 
to  God  for  help ;  you  are  '  Never  too  weak  to 
win,'  'Never  too  poor  to  pray.'" 

This  encouraged  me,  and  kept  me  from  despond- 
ing. I  tried  again  and  again.  At  last  I  hired 
a  horse,  one  that  was  rather  lean  and  lank,  and 
poorly  caparisoned,  to  carry  me  through  the 
deep  mire.  I  had  no  credentials, — nothing  to 
reccommend  me  but  my  diminutive  size  and  boyish 
appearance. 

"Who  is. committee-man  of  this  district?"  I 
inquired  of  an  old  woman,  as  I  rode  up  to  the  gate 
of  a  house  some  six  miles  from  home. 

"What's  that  to  you?"  said  she,  eyeing  me  with 
contempt.  "If  you  want  to  be  a  school-master, 
you'd  better  wait  and  grow  ;  you  hain't  big  enough ; 
you  can't  half  fill  out  your  clothes." 

This  rather  nonplussed  me.  I  rode  two  miles 
further  on,  and  asked  at  another  house,  "Who  is 
the  committee-man  of  this  district  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  care ;  you  hain't  big 
enough  for  a  teacher,  anyhow,  your  saddle  is  bigger 
than  you  be ;  your  feet  don't  come  down  to  the 
stirrups." 

Here  was  another  poser. 

When  I  called  at  the  next  house,  I  fared  no 
better. 

"What  are  you  round  here  for?    What  are  you 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  53 

after?  "Want  to  be  a  teacher,  don't  you?  You'd 
better  go  home  ;  our  Jemima  would  beat  you  all 
hollow.  She  knows  more  than  you  do,  two  to 
one." 

I  remarked,  WI  guess  your  Jemima  is  a  candi- 
date, ain't  she?" 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  You'd  better  leave  theso 
parts  ;  there's  no  use  in  your  being  round  here." 

Here  I  found  additional  difficulties :  not  only 
my  forbidding  appearance,  but  a  local  female  rival. 
I  started  for  the  next  district.  Here  they  told  me 
that  they  always  employed  female  teachers  in  sum- 
mer. And  at  the  next  place,  and  the  next  place, 
I  received  the  same  reply,  —  "We  always  hire 
female  teachers  in  summer."  • 

Plague  on  it !  If  I  had  only  been  a  girl ,  thought 
I,  I  could  have  obtained  a  situation  easy  enough. 
If  I  had  only  been  a  girl,  wore  silks,  carried  a  par- 
asol, I  could  have  been  a  school-teacher ;  but, 
pshaw!  I  wasn't  a  girl — I  couldn't  be  a  girl, 
wasn't  like  to  be — all  my  mother's  children  had 
been  boys. 

"  If  I  had  only  been  a  girl,"  I  repeated,  as  I  drew 
up  the  reins,  jerked  at  the  bit,  and  applied  the 
whip  vigorously  to  my  horse.  The  horse  seemed 
astonished  at  this  sudden  change  of  treatment; 
shook  his  head,  and  gazed  round,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "What sup?" 


54  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR,    • 

"If  I  had  only  been  a  girl ! "  said  I,  aloud,  as  I 
gave  the  horse  another  cut ;  he  finally  took  the  hint, 
stalled  on  a  trot,  then  a  gallop,  and  made  the  water 
splash  and  the  mud  fly  as  he  cantered  away. 

Two  weeks  of  unsuccessful  effort  had  driven  me 
to  despair.  There  was  but  one  chance  left,  —  that 
was  in  the  district  of  Hopewell,  a  small  district 
two  miles  from  home  ;  so  small,  they  had  always 
hired  female  teachers,  both  winter  and  summer. 
Therefore  the  chances  of  a  male  teacher  for  sum- 
mer, would  be  about  as  promising  as  skating  in 
July. 

I  met  Mr.  Goodsell,  the  committee-man,  return- 
ing home  on  his  ox-cart.  Mr.  Goodsell  had  "  full 
powers  " ;  a  very  fcfrtunate  circumstance  for  me. 
I  got  on  the  cart  with  him  ;  the  night  was  dark ; 
the  oxen  travelled  slowly,  zig-zag  along.  I  com- 
menced at  once  on  the  subject  of  my  mission ; 
such  an  opportunity  would  not  probably  happen 
again  in  a  lifetime.  I  must  make  the  most  of  it. 
It  was  now  or  never  with  me.  Teach  I  would, — 
teach  for  nothing,  if  need  be,  and  keep  myself; 
only  let  me  teach,  and,  if  possible,  teach  under  the 
authority  of  the  State  of  Connecticut.  He  was 
that  authority  to  me. 

"Now,  Mr.  Goodsell,"  said  I,  "you  can  set  up  a 
poor  boy,  and  put  him  on  his  feet,  by  giving  me 
this  situation.  Your  boy  may  some  time  want 
similar  aid." 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  55 

WI  am  afraid  you're  too  small,  my  lad.  I  am 
afraid  the  feeling  will  be  too  strong  against  you," 
replied  Mr.  Goodsell. 

"But  give  me  a  chance,  only  a  chance,  sir!  I 
will  overcome  the  prejudice  and  gain  the  good-will 
of  all.  I  hav%  set  my  heart  on  becoming  a 
teacher." 

"  But  you  may  not  pass  examination." 

"I  have  no  fear  of  that.  ^Just  try  me,  sir  I  I 
have  a  certificate  from  Judge  Blackman  ;  give  me 
the  chance,  and  you  shall  never  be  the  loser." 

"  Well,  I  will  see  about  it ;  we  have  always  had 
female  teachers,  but  I  will  ask  my  wife,  and  see 
the  neighbors." 

This  was  crushing  to  me.  I  knew  there  was  no 
hope  in  that  quarter,  —  none  outside  of  his  sus- 
ceptible bosom. 

"  But,"  said  I,  "I  must  know  to-night." 

"  Ah !  you  are  hurrying  up  matters,  you  can- 
not know  to-night ; "  becoming  a  little  nervous, 
and  crying  out,  "  Gee  lip  there.  Whoa  I  hoy  1 
come  along  Brindle,  hurry  up,  old  buckl"  using 
his  whip  quite  freely. 

w  Now,  Mr.  Goodsell,  you  know  I  have  no  father ; 
perhaps  your  boy  may  be  in  a  like  condition  some 
time  ;  God  grant  that  he  may  not !  My  lot  has 
been  a  hard  one,  my  privileges  of  education  small. 
I  could  not  supply  a  large  school,  and  have  no 


56  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

means  for  further  advancement  in  my  studies. 
Assist  me,  and  you  will  never  be  sorry  for  help- 
ing a  poor  fatherless  boy." 

"But  we  pay  next  to  nothing,"  he  said,  as  he 
touched  up  his  oxen,  and  seemed  a  little  moved. 

"I  don't  care  for  the  pay.  I  don't  want  to  go 
back  to  the  farm.  I  shall  lose  all  my  winters 
knowledge.  Do  help  me  !  " 

"Ah,  my  lad,  as  much  as  I  would  like  it,  I  dare 
not  risk  it !  I  am  afraid  of  the  proprietors." 

"But,  Mr.  Goodsell,  you  have  full  powers,  and 
have  been  committee-man  several  times  before. 
Oh,  let  me  have  the  situation,  and  I  will  show  you 
how  I  can  please  the  parents  of  all,  and  how  I 
will  aid  your  two  little  girls  in  their  education ; 
and  that  boy  John  —  the  idol  of  your  heart  —  I 
will  make  a  man  of  him.  Do  aid  me,  sir,  and 
Heaven  will  reward  you  !  " 

"I  should,  like  to,  my  boy,"  said  he,  scratching 
his  head,  "  but  —  but  —  " 

"But  you  will  aid  me.  Oh,  aid  me,  sir,  and 
the  blessings  of  a  poor  fatherless  boy  shall  be 
upon  you,  and  his  prayers  shall  follow  you,  and 
the  prayers  of  a  poor  widowed  mother  shall  in- 
tercede for  you  and  for  your  darling  children  ! " 

"Ahem!  ahem!"  said  Mr.  Goodsell,  clearing 
his  throat,  as  he  jumped  from  the  cart  and  walked 
nervouslj  beside  the  yoke,  keeping  pace  with  the 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  57 

oxen,  and  quite  agitated.  I  was  in  deep  suspense. 
My  fate  was  about  to  be  decided.  I  watched  his 
every  motion  with  intense  anxiety.  Would  he 
give  me  the  school? 

At  last  ho  canit>  back,  and  taking  me  by  tho 
hand,  said,  with  choking  voice,  "It  isn't  in  tho 
heart  of  Bradley  Goodsell  to  deny  you.  Say  what 
they  may,  you  shall  have  the  school.  There  can't 
be  but  one  to  have  it,  and  you  shall  bo  that  one. 
I  have  said  it,  and  I  will  stick  to  it." 

Patting  me  on  the  shoulder,  "You  arc  the 
boy  that  shall  make  your  mark  in  tho  world." 

"Oh,  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Goodsell,  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart  I  thank  .you  !  I  assure  you 
I  will  prove  myself  capable  of  teaching  the 
school." 

Great  was  the  joy  of  my  mother  when  she 
learned  of  my  success.  The  Bible  was  read 
in  softer  tones  that  night,  and  tho  prayer  that 
went  up  was  that  of  gratitude. 

When  it  became  generally  known  that  I  had 
been  hired  as  teacher,  there  was  great  aston- 
ishment in  Hopewell,  and  no  little  opposition. 
Many  said  "the  widow's  sou"  should  never 
lord  it  over  their  children.  Some  sneered,  and 
said,  "How  does  he  happen  to  know  so  much? 
Where  did  he  get  his  learning?  He  won't  pass 
examination." 


58  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

A  neighbor  told  me  Mr.  Goodsell  would  never 
dare  to  let  me  have  the  key  for  opening  the  school, 
there  was  such  prejudice  against  me.  I  thought 
he  would,  however,  and  waited  my  time.  I  was 
examined  by  the  authorities,  and  pronounced 
competent  to  teach  in  Hopewell. 

The  first  of  April  came,  the  key  was  given  me  ; 
I  commenced  with  seven  pupils  in  the  forenoon, 
and  had  eleven  in  the  afternoon.  The  number 
soon  increased  to  thirteen.  My  salary  was  one 
dollar  a  week,  and  board.  The  first  two  weeks  I 
boarded  with  the  Committee. 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  59 


CHAPTER    VII. 

* 

School-master  at  Last.  — Hopewell  District.  — Dollar  a  week 
and  Board.  —  Success.  — Grammar  Mania.  — Reengaged.  — 
"Wages  Advanced. — Exhibition  closes  School. — Mother's 
"Shadowy  Hand."  —  Banks  District. — Enthusiasm. — 
"  Wood-bees."  —  Revival.  —  Joined  the  Methodists.  — 
Charm  of  the  Itinerancy.  —  Taught  at  Weston. 

|T  last  I  had  reached  the  goaj  of  my  ambi- 
tion, the  "ultima  Thule."  I  was  actually 
a  school-master.  "Eureka!"  I  had  found 
the  road  to  success  and  distinction !  I 
was  no  more  to  be  a  "  hewer  of  wood  and  drawer 
of  water,"  no  more  to  be  designated  as  "  clod-hop- 
per," "counter-jumper,"  "pettifogger."  That  was 
in  the  old  world  of  the  past. 

Here  was  a  new  field  for  practising  eloquence ; 
a  field  for  moving  children's  hearts,  and  studying 
the  passions.  If  I  move  the  youth  I  may  move 
men.  Win  these  children,  and  I  win  the  parents. 
I  had  been  reaVed  among  flowers.  My  mother 
had  almost  worshipped  them ;  the  house  and  the 
garden  were  covered  with  them.  They  were  my 
mother's  holy  solace.  But  flowers  exhibit  only 
sentiment ;  children,  more,  — their  hearts  beat  with 
passion.  Flowers  are  transient ;  souls  are  immor- 
tal. Children  have  great  possibilities;  flowers 


60  .      SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

have  not.  Children  can  respond  to  love  and  kind- 
ness ;  flowers  cannot.  These  children  maybe,  in 
embryo,  the  future  governors,  judges,  statesmen, 
ministers,  and  yet  something  more;  —  industri- 
ous, upright,  honest  citizens. 

Here,  then,  was  a  field  for  heart-study.  Heart- 
force  is  Heaven's  force.  If  I  could  draw  these 
children  towards  me  as  to  a  magnet,  then  the  world 
would  follow.  My  success  was  equal  to  my  antici- 
pation. Every  child  was  to  me  sacred;  every 
soul  a  gem  from  the  Almighty,  committed  to  my 
care.  They  loved  me,  they  ran  to  meet  me,  and 
embraced  me  with  the  sweetest  endearments. 
Their  parents  loved  me  ;  they  would  do  anything 
for  me  ;  they  took  my  part  in  every  controversy. 

Things  went  on  swimmingly.  All  parents  were 
anxious  for  their  children  to  excel,  and  each  to 
excel  the  other.  Children  were  found  with  books 
everywhere.  There  was  a  perfect  mania  for  learn- 
ing in  Hope  well.  Already  parents  could  see,  in 
their  children,  candidates  for  many  a  high  oifice  ; 
spinning,  weaving,  and  farming  were  soon  to  bo 
at  a  discount. 

There  was  one  drawback,  however :  it  was  sud- 
denly discovered  that  the  people  of  Hopewell 
didn't  talk  "grammar"  A  consternation  seized 
those  parents  reaching  almost  to  a  panic.  All 
their  life  long  they  hadn't  talked  grammar!  They 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  61 

had  grown  up,  made  love,  courted,  married,  had 
children,  paid  their  debts,  held  office,  paid  their 
pew  tax,  and  washed  their  children's  faces  on  Sun- 
day, but,  alas !  alas  !  they  didn't  talk  grammar. 
How  different  would  have  been  their  condition  if 
they  had  cnly  talked  "grammatically." 

But  there  was  to  be  a  change.  The  Young 
Idea  had  discovered  that  the  oft-repeated  phrases, 
"  Them's  urn  !  "  "  His'n  !  "  or  "  Her'n  1 "  were  not 
high-toned.  The  mother  who  remarked  to  her  lit- 
tle girl,  "That  'ere  book  of  your'n  is  nicely  kiv- 
ered,"  would  bo  informed  that  her  remarks  were 
not  quite  grammatical,  and  that  it  would  sound 
better  if  "  that  book  of  yours  is-  nicely  covered." 

AVhen  father  asserted  "  that  his  bosses  ain't  ter 
be  beat  in  the  hull  town,  they're  the  goodest  pair 
us  there  be  in  Hope  well,"  he  was  respectfully 
informed  that  Grammar  required  the  sentence  to 
read  thus :  "  My  horses  can't  be  beaten  in  the 
whole  town  ;  they  are  the  best  pair  in  Hope  well." 

And  when  punishment  came,  and  the  stern  voice 
of  the  parent  gave  judgment,  "I'll  lick  you,  boy  !" 
he  was  cheerfully  answered,  "  Lick  you  !  Tather, 
what  an  expression  I  That's  not  correct ;  that's  not 
good  grammar."  And  the  whip  and  the  auger  alike 
fell  from  the  paternal  grasp  when  he  found  it  not 
grammatical  to  "  lick  "  his  boy. 

Thus  grammar  became  a  humanizing  power. 


62  S&A.DOWY  HAND;   OK, 

As  to  the  rod,  I  never,  during  all  the  years  of 
my  teaching,  used  it  at  school,  depending  entirely 
on  moral  suasion  in  gaining  the  sympathies  and 
love  of  the  children.  And  I  succeeded. 

September  came.  The  proprietors  of  Hope  well 
District  were  "Hereby  notified  that  a  meeting 
would  be  held  for  choosing  a  teacher  the  coming 
winter,  per  order  of  Bradley  Goodsell,  School 
Committee." 

They  convened  in  solemn  conclave,  and  voted 
to  re-engage  the  "boy  teacher"  for  the  winter 
term,  at  an  advance  of  fifty  cents  per  week,  • — one 
dollar  and  a  half,  all  told. 

One  proprietor  demurred  at  the  fifty  cents 
advance.  He  thought  as  that  district  had  always 
been  used  as  a  cart  for  breaking  in  colts,  the 
young  colt  should  pay  for  his  breaking,  and  work 
for  nothing. 

The  winter  term  opened  auspiciously.  The 
scholars  came  in  from  adjoining  districts ;  every 
seat  was  filled ;  benches  and  camp-stools  were  in 
requisition.  The  "boy  teacher"  was  not  so  large 
as  several  of  his  pupils,  but  what  was  wanting  in 
size  was  made  up  in  spirit.  I  was  "Muster"; 
that  is,  master  of  their  hearts.  I  had  gained 
their  affection. 

School  closed  with  an  exhibition,  examination, 
declamations  and  readings.  Judge,  squire,  preacho 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  63 

aiid  school  committee  were  in  attendance.  "Wagons 
came  from  all  directions.  Never  was  there  such  a 
gala  day  in  Hopewell.  Every  mother  was  proud 
of  her  child,  and  each  child  was  decked  in  its 
best.  Every  fattier  thought  his  boy  the  smartest. 
There  was  more  than  one  candidate  in  that  school 
for  Governor  and  President. 

This  was  a  proud  hour  for  me  !  My  fame  would 
extend  to  other  districts,  and  my  reputation  as  a 
teacher  of  eloquence  be  established.  My  scholars 
gathered  around  me  at  the  close  of  the  exercises, 
for  a  last  farewell.  Such  weeping,  at  the  sepa- 
ration, never  was  seen  !  They  said,  upon  learning 
that  I  was  to  go  to  another  district  next  season, 
"We  will  never  forgive  you;  there  will  be  a 
vacant  place  in  Hopewell." 

Parents  were  anxious  to  say, "  They  had  made  a 
man  of  me  ;  if  it  hadn't  been  for  them  and  their 
children,  I  should  not  have  succeeded."  It  was  true. 
No  man  can  work  without  tools.  Napoleon  said, 
"  Men  are  tools  to  those  who  can  use  them." 

My  mother  was  in  the  audience.  She  wept  with 
joy  at  my  success,  and  received  the  congratulations 
of  all  Hopewell  with  pride  and  satisfaction.  Her 
w  Shadowy  Hand  "  had  done  it  all. 

The  first  Temperance  Lecture  I  ever  delivered 
was  in  that  school-house.  I  was  inspired  by  being 
surrounded  by  warm  and  long-tried  friends. 


64  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

Their  encouragements  were  fountains  of  inspira- 
tion. My  first  religious  meeting  was  also,  in  after 
years,  held  in  that  grand  old  school-house. 

I  next  went  to  Banks  district,  town  of  Fairfield, 
to  teach,  at  a  salary  of  two  dollars  a  week  and 
"board."  Eli  Sherwood  was  "Committee,"  — 
brother-in-law  to  Bradley  Goodsell,  of  Hope  well. 

Here  was  no  aristocracy  ;  none  were  very  poor ; 
all  were  farmers,  and  on  a  common  level.  The 
enthusiasm  aroused  by  my  efforts  was  even  greater 
than  at  Hopewell.  Here  was  the  crowning  of  my 
hopes.  Such  friends  I  had  never  seen.  Such 
devoted  hearts  and  cheering  countenances  were 
the  inspiration  of  a  lifetime. 

All  contributed  to  encourage  me,  all  were 
anxious  to  have  their  children  excel.  "  Wisdom 
flowed  in  the  streets  and  knowledge  was  increased." 
It  was  study  at  play,  study  at  work,  study  at  the 
road-side,  study  at  breakfast,  dinner,  supper,  and 
study  in  children's  dreams. 

Declamation  was  placed  at  a  high  figure.  Boys 
were  found  reciting  in  the  garret,  and  in  every 
vacant  lot.  The  school  term  closed  with  a  rousing 

exhibition. 

, 

One  drawback  to  Banks  district 'Swas  this: 
almost  everybody  drank,  more  or  less.  Gather- 
ings called  "  Wood-bees"  for  cutting  each  other's 
"vood,  and  "Stone-bees"  for  building  stone  wall, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  65 

were  numerous,  with  large  suppers  and  plenty  to 
drink. 

Influences  like  these  were  demoralizing  to  me. 
One  thing  saved  me  and  the  neighborhood :  the 
Methodists  held  protracted  meetings  near  by,  and 
many  were  the  converts.  The  tide  at  last  swept 
into  this  neighborhood ;  the  Congregationalists 
took  up  the  work.  Meetings  were  held  every 
night  for  nearly  six  months.  Never  had  there 
been  known  such  a  sweeping  revival.  Then  I  first 
made  a  public  profession  of  religion,  and  exer- 
cised my  gift  in  speaking  upon  religious  subjects. 

What  church  to  join,  was  the  question.  I  knew 
the  Congregationalists  would  be  cool  towards  me 
if  I  left  them,  but  my  sympathies  were  with  the 
Methodists,  because  of  my  mother's  early  teach- 
ings. I  had  read  the  histories  of  Jesse  Lee, 
Washburn,  Bangs,  Lorenzo  Dow,  and  Maffitt, 
wandering  through  the  country,  on  their  circuits, 
on  horseback,  with  saddle-bags  and  light  hearts. 
The  opposition  they  met  with,  the  sufferings  they 
endured,  and  the  victories  they  achieved,  fired 
me  for  the  "  Itinerancy." 

Methodist  "  Itinerants  "  were  my  ideal  of  God's 
holy  Evangelists.  My  mother  had  her  walls 
covered  with  pictures  of  circuit-riders,  presiding 
elders,  and  bishops.  The  story  of  their  sacrifices, 
faith,  and  prayers,  charmed  my  youthful  spirit, 
5 


66  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

• 

and  whiled  away  many  a  happy  hour  at  the  w  old 
store."  Perhaps  some  day  I  might  traVel,  and  do 
good,  as  they  had  done.  So  I  joined  the  new 
Methodist  Church  at  Centre  Street,  Weston,  and 
engaged  to  teach.  Here  I  improved  much  in  my 
studies,  especially  in  Botany,  Algebra  and  Chem- 
istry. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  67 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

Taught  at  Flat  Rock. — Jealous  School-master. — Taught  at 
Dwight's  Old  Academy  and  at  Fairfield.  —  Studied  with 
Colonel  Perry.  —  First  Impression  of  Gough.  —  Anxious  to 
Travel. — Visits  to  Almshouses  and  Prisons.  —  School  of 
Passion.  — Two  Objects  :  My  own  Improvement,  and  to 
adrp'nister  to  the  Afflicted. 


I 


NEXT  taught  in  Flat  Rock,  Easton,  which' 
was  old  Methodist  ground.  Here,  however, 
opposition  was  made  by  a  jealous  school- 
master. **  He  was  not  going  to  be  converted 
while  I  was  allowed  to  speak  in  the  meetings " ; 
so  the  minister  sang  and  prayed  me  down.  I  did 
not  understand  this  at  the  time,  but  hi  later  years, 
when  I  applied  for  a  license  at  that  church,  the 
school-master's  conduct  was  revealed.  This  wiil 
appear  in  the  sequel. 

I  next  tanght  in  Dwight's  Old  Academy,  Green- 
field Hill,  and  concluded  my  seven  years  of 
teaching  at  Mill  Plain,  Fairfield,  with  a  grand 
exhibition.  The  crowd  from  adjoining  towns  was 
immense.  The  school-house  had  been  enlarged 
for  my  use,  and  yet  was  not  sufficient ;  so  we 
erected  a  tent,  and  had  the  exhibition  on  the 
common.  I  often  met  my  scholars  at  night  to 


68  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

study  Astronomy  with  me,  to  locate   the   stars, 
and  to  draw  out  a  map  of  the  heavens. 

I  also  studied  with  Colonel  Perry,  first  at 
Bridgeport,  and  then  at  Southport,  and  made 
some  progress  in  English  composition  and  the 
Classics.  I  never  was,  however,  a  very  apt 
scholar  in  the  dead  languages. 

Colonel  Perry  was  a  graduate  of  West  Point, 
and  was  with  General  Sam  Houston  in  Texas. 
He  left  the  Army  after  the  battle  of  San  Jaciuto, 
and  then  became  a  Methodist  preacher.  At 
Stepney  camp  meeting,  he  said,  "I  have  sought 
for  rest  in  the  smoke  of  battle ;  I  have  sought  it 
at  the  cannon's  mouth ;  but  I  never  found  it  till 
I  found  it  in  Jesus  !  " 

General  Houston,  coming  to  Bridgeport  soon 
after,  threw  discredit  on  the  "cannon's  mouth" 
business.  The  Colonel  never  repeated  the  ex- 
pression afterwards. 

Colonel  Perry  was  a  great  help  to  me  in  my 
ministerial  studies,  and  showed  me  the  minister's 
inner  life.  I  furnished  him  with  the  use  of  a  horse 
and  carriage,  in  return  for  his  services.  He  had 
the  cool,  logical,  and  military  bearing  of  a  soldier, 
stately  and  unsympathetic.  He  displayed  but 
little  of  holy  emotion.  His  were  the  "dry  bones" 
of  the  ministry ;  he  flung  but  little  passion  into 
his  work. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  69 

I  had  seen  John  B.  Gough  at  Bridgeport,  and 
thought  him  one  of  Nature's  noblemen.  No  ono 
had  previously  come  up  to  my  idea  of  oratory. 
This  power  could  never  have  been  acquired  under 
ecclesiastical  rules  ;  the  pulpit  would  only  hamper 
him.  The  Colonel  was  just  the  opposite  of  Gough  ; 
he  looked  down  upon  him  with  a  sneer.  I  had  no 
freedom  here.  Oh  !  how  I  wept  when  I  saw  his 
cool  chills  and  checks  upon  the  poor,  honest,  strug- 
gling faithful  ones  of  his  church,  striving,  with  all 
their  might  and  main,  to  win  souls  and  build  up 
the  cause  ! 

Could  a  man  take  a  salary,  be  called  a  minister, 
go  indifferently  into  his  pulpit  fresh  from  the  last 
novel,  and  recite  his  piece,  and  retire  for  the  week 
and  say  his  work  was  done  ?  Yet  that  man  repre- 
sents hundreds  in  the  pulpit  to-day  ! 

Oh,  for  men  of  heart !  men  of  soul !  men  of 
godly  power  !  If  the  great  need  of  the  age  were 
advertised,  the  advertisement  would  read,"  Wanted 
a  Live  Man!"  —  a  man  of  sacrifice,  of  prayer,  of 
heart-force,  of  heavenly  unction,  and  holy  zeal ! 
A  man  for  the  times  ! 

My  labors,  thus  far,  had  been  with  children. 
Children  are  all  heart,  all  confidence.  I  had  played 
upon  their  feelings,  studied  their  passions,  saw  the 
quivering  lip,  the  tearful  eye,  and  felt  their  le- 
Bpouse  to  my  tender  appeal. 

I  now  yearned,  however,  for  a  wider  field.     I 


70  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

felt  that  men  are  but  children  of  a  larger  growth, 
and  moved  by  the  same  passions.  In  endeavor- 
ing to  reach  men's  hearts,  I  would  try  my  talent  in 
speaking  upon  temperance.  My  first  efforts,  how- 
ever, were  complete  failures.  I  had  borrowed  the 
language  of  the  learned,  and  endeavored  to  deliver 
it  with  my  hot,  fiery  temperament.  I  had  not 
learned,  until  now,  that  the  lofty  rhetoric  and 
rounded  periods  of  Blair  and  Johnson  might  be 
thundered  with  the  vehemence  of  a  Demosthenes. 
A  few  failures  convinced  me  of  the  necessity  of  a 
language  of  my  own,  and  a  knowledge  of  men 
and  nature  rather  than  of  books.  I  therefore 
resolved  to  travel ;  —  not  to  visit  foreign  courts 
and  palaces,  and  not  to  measure  the  grades  of  roy- 
alty, but  to  frequent  the  almshouses,  the  prisons 
and  hospitals  of  my  own  country.  I  would  go 
on  a  pilgrimage  of  charity,  walk  down  the  decliv- 
ities of  sorrow  and  grief  to  the  abodes  of  despair, 
carrying  the  gospel  of  Hope  as  an  Angel  of  Mercy 
to  spirits  in  prison  ;  and  there,  with  an  ear  tuned  to 
the  voice  of  their  wailings,  take  a  lesson  from  sor- 
row, and  learn  the  language  of  grief.  I  had  two 
objects,  —  one  to  obtain  statistics,  and  "lecturing, 
and  the  other  to  administer  spiritual  comfort  to  the- 
afiiicted. 

On  foot,  and  with  only  an  Exhorter's  license,  I 
commenced  my  travels.     The  Sabbaths  were  gen- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  71 

orally  spent  in  prisons  or  poor-houses,  and  during 
the  week  I  lectured  in  the  intervening  villages, 
drawing  my  arguments  from  my  Sabbath  obser 
rations. 

Several  years  were  spent  in  this  mission,  and 
•with  no  small  advantage  to  myself.  Now  in  the 
prison,  taking  notes  of  sympathy  and  sorrow  in 
Nature's  own  language  ;  now  reading  her  lettered 
pages  upon  the  hills,  the  rivers  and  the  sky ;  now 
upon  the  plantation,  familiarizing  myself  with 
Slavery,  and  now  with  the  vociferous  acclamations 
of  Freedom ;  now  communing  with  the  spirits  of 
the  caves,  and  tuning  my  harp  in  the  silence  of 
their  subterranean  abodes,  and  now  battling  alone 
with  the  storm-fiend  on  Mount  "Washington,  meet- 
ing its  sunshine  and  its  storms,  and  narrowly  escap- 
ing death ;  now  conversing  with  the  roar  of  Niag- 
ara, and  now  with  my  own  spirit,  while  a  lone  night 
wanderer,  losing  my  way  amid  the  darkness,  cold, 
and  snow  of  the  wilderness,  and  despairing  even 
of  life.  Here,  amid  such  scenes  in  the  classics  of 
Nature,  I  became  familiar  with  her  smiles  and 
frowns,  found  a  key  to  the  hidden  treasures  of  her 
affections,  and  opened  the  well-spring  of  her  tears. 

I  loved  Nature, —  I  seemed  her  favorite  child.  I 
was  cradled  in  her  bosom,  rocked  by  her  murmur- 
iugs,  and  charmed  by  her  sunny  smiles.  The  high 
rock  near  my  home,  the  mountain  wilds  and  water- 


72  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

falls,  yet  present  to  me  many  a  sacred  spot  whore 
I  spent  the  livelong  day  in  harmonizing  the  beauty 
of  the  poets,  and  the  passions  of  the  Psalmist, 
with  the  voice  of  Nature.  In  my  pedestrian  travels 
over  hill  and  dale,  I  had  Homer,  Virgil,  Milton  and 
Shakespeare  for  my  constant  companions.  Their 
heroes  were  nry  study  and  admiration. 

It  is  related  of  Patrick  Henry,  that  he  neglected 
the  business  of  trading  to  study  nature  from  the 
countenances  of  his  customers ;  and,  though  his 
business  went  to  ruin,  his  talents  soon  became  the 
most  brilliant  in  America.  I  also  made  all  things 
subservient  to  my  favorite  study,  — books,  faces, 
scenery.  All  hours,  whether  of  labor  or  recrea- 
tion, were  laid  at  the  shrine  of  Eloquence.  I  was 
ambitious,  and  spent  all  I  had  of  tkne,  talent,  and 
wealth,  upon  its  altar ;  but  mine  was  not  the  ambi- 
tion of  a  military  leader  thirsting  for  blood,  nor 
that  of  the  millionaire  for  hoards  of  gold,  nor  that 
of  the  statesman  for  political  renown ;  nor  was 
my  fame  to  be  at  the  expense  of  others'  ruin,  but 
for  the  good  of  all  mankind. 

The  height  of  my  ambition  was  to  ameliorate 
the  condition  of  suffering  humanity,  to  comfort  the 
mourning,  to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to 
reclaim  the  backslidden,  and  "  vindicate  the  ways 
of  God  to  man." 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  7  3 


CHAPTER    IX. 

Avldress  to  Fallen  Women  in  the  New  "fork  Penitentiary.  — 
First  Freedom  in  Original  Expression. — Effect  of  my 
Speech.  —  Sobs,  Sighs  and  Wailings.  —  Address  to  Slaves 
in  African  Church,  Richmond. — Bras.s  Ring.  —  How  to 
find  Jesus.  —  "  Hallelujah."  —  Contrast  at  Philadelphia.  — 
Speaking  to  Naked  Walls.  —  Solitary  Confinement.  — 
Buried  Alive.  — Visit  to  Sing  Sing.  —  "Resisting the  Spirit." 
—  "  My  Mother,  oh,  my  Mother." 

|T  the  New  York  Penitentiary  for  Fallen 
Women,  I  experienced  my  first  freedom  in 
passionate  expression.  I  said,  "I  have 
come,  in  the  name  of  Christ,  to  weep  with 
those  who  weep,  to  mourn  with  those  who  mourn, 
to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to  proclaim  liberty 
to  captives,  and  the  opening  of  the  prison  to  them 
that  are  bound." 

The  first  sentence  awakened  their  attention, 
and  brought  tears.  Women  of  this  class  have 
great  animal  passion.  Stir  the  springs  of  passion, 
and  you  reach  the  heart.  I  said,  "  Do  not  despair, 
there  is  hope  for  the  hopeless ;  Christ  has  died 
for  all.  He  died  for  you." 

Then,  midst  loud  sobbings,  I  continued:  "Sin 
is  the  mother  of  affliction,  and  all  her  progeny 
are  children  of  suffering.  The  way  of  the. trans- 


74  SHADOWY  HAND;   OR, 

gressor  is  hard ;  where  sin  is,  there  is  sorrow, 
and  sorrow  fills  the  world.  From  every  lacerated 
heart,  from  the  palace  to  the  prison,  from  temp- 
tations and  transgressions,  the  world  echoes  one 
loud,  continued,  universal  wail  of  woe." 

Here  their  sobs  were  renewed,  and  their  tears 
flowed  afresh.  When  I  came  to  Christ's  sufferings, 
and  pictured  the  terrible  agony  of  Gethsemane, 
and  the  death  on  Calvary,  I  said,  "Christ  was 
touched  with  the  feelings  of  our  infirmities ;  He 
placed  His  finger  on  every  beating  pulse,  and 
drank  in  all  our  agony,  carrying  our  sorrows  and 
bearing  our  griefs.  He  could  save  to  the  utter- 
most; there  was  hope  for  all  who  trusted  in 
Him." 

At  this  the  flood-gates  of  these  poor  women's 
tears  burst  forth ;  they  trembled  like  a  forest 
shaken  by  the  wind.  In  the  fulness  of  their 
emotion  they  swayed  backwards  and  forwards, 
they  burst  into  sighs  and  groans.  Here  I  was 
compelled  to  stop.  I  could  not  go  on  because  of 
their  passionate  wailings.  Many  cried  out,  "Lord, 
have  mercy,  have  mercy  ! "  And  the  tumult  of 
their  groanings  was  as  the  waves  of  the  sea. 

Never  before  had  I  seen  such  impassioned  out- 
bursts of  grief.  Even  the  keepers  were  melted  to 
tears.  I  said,  "Your  incarceration  may  be  over- 
ruled for  good.  No  chastening  seemeth  joyous, 


MFE-STRUGGLES.  75 

but  grievous.  As  gold  is  purified  by  the  lire, 
as  silver  is  refined  by  the  furnace,  so  affliction 
may  be  the  fire  to  purify  your  hearts  and  lead  you 
to  God.  The  Psalmist  said,  '  Before  I  was  afflicted 
I  went  astray.  But  now  have  I  kept  Thy  word.' 
Affliction  is  a  deep  mine,  dark  and  dismal ;  the 
passages  to  its  depths  are  dire,  but  there  are  hid 
treasures  at  the  bottom.  We  must  submit  to  the 
chastening  rod.  As  the  lamb  submits  to  the  knife, 
without  a  word  of  complaint,  as  the  ox  led  to 
the  slaughter  can  only  lick  the  hand,  we  must 
kiss  the  rod,  knowing  that  it  is  held  by  a  loving 
Father's  hand.  As  the  silkworm  dies  to  give  up 
its  silken  treasure,  the  grape  is  bruised  to  extract 
its  juice,  as  the  crushed  flower  gushes  with  sweetest 
odor,  so  we  must  submit,  and  take  hope.  Christ 
will  save,  Christ  will  be  all,  and  in  all,  and  help 
us  to  dive  into  affliction's  deep  sea,  fathom  its 
coral  recesses,  and  pluck  gems  of  hope  from  the 
depths  of  despair." 

As  I  closed,  and  they  were  compelled  to  march 
out,  they  cast  their  longing  eyes  upon  me,  as  if 
I  had  been  a  messenger  of  revelation  from  the 
spirit  world.  Sighs  and  sobs  were  heard  as  they 
passed  down  stairs. 

Once  only  did  I  witness  a  like  manifestation  of 
sympathy;  it  was  at  Richmond,  Virginia.  I  had 
spoken  to  the  prisoners  in  the  penitentiary,  and  was 


76  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

invited  to  speak  to  the  slaves  in  the  African  church 
This  church  is  the  largest  colored  church  iu 
America .  The  bonds  of  the  prisoners  were  to  me 
similar  to  the  bonds  of  the  slave,  and  the  bonds 
of  sin  were  stronger  than  either.  How  to  break 
the  bonds?  was  the  question.  None  but  Jesus 
could  do  it. 

Look  to  Jesus,  was  my  theme.  When  I  por- 
trayed Jesus  saving  the  poorest,  weakest,  the  dying 
thief — saving  the  poor  slave  as  quick  as  he  would 
the  master  —  hallelujahs  !  resounded  from  every 
pew,  the  house  shook  with  a  burst  of  pent-up  pas- 
sion ! 

One  poor  slave  woman  sprang  out  from  her 
seat,  walked  up  and  down  the  aisle,  and  cried, 
w  Oh,  massa  !  how  can  I'se  find  Jesus,  —  how  can 
gib  up  all  for  Jesus?  What  hab  I  got  to  gib? 
My  clothes  ar'  not  my  own,  dey  belong  to  my 
inassa ;  my  body  is  not  nay  own,  dese  poor  old 
bones  belong  to  my  massa.  What  hab  I  to  gib 
up  for  Jesus  ?  " 

Suddenly  she  bethought  her  of  an  old  brass 
ring  upon  her  finger,  the  only  property  she  pos- 
sessed. She  took  it  from  her  hand,  and  said :  "I 
gib  up  all  for  Jesus  ! " 

She  clapped  her  hands  in  her  ecstasy  of  joy. 
No  sooner  was  this  said  than  the  victory  was  won. 
She  shouted,  "  Oh  I  I  hab  found  Jesus.  Glory  ! 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  77 

HalMujah ! "  And  all  the  multitude  shouted, 
K  Hallelujah."  And  when  the  invitation  was  given 
them  to  come  forward,  the  altar  was  full  three  or 
four  deep,  and  all  the  aisles  were  filled  with  weep- 
ing, mourning,  shouting  slaves. 

In  contrast  to  this  excitement,  what  a  chill  I 
received  at  the  Penitentiary  in  Philadelphia.  This 
prison  was  conducted  on  the  solitary  confinement 
plan  ;  the  prisoners  not  being  allowed  to  see  any- 
body, nor  to  speak  a  word.  Oh,  how  cold,  inan- 
imate, lifeless  !  I  could  almost  feel  the  damp  chill 
of  the  grave  as  I  stood  within  those  walls.  Here 
the  cheerless  prisoner  broods  over  his  wretched 
condition  until  the  mind  whirls  and  turns  within 
itself,  and  dies  of  self-attrition.  A  mouse,  a  fly, 
anything  that  could  breathe,  move,  or  respond, 
would  afford  comfort  to  those  entombed  men ! 
They  seemed  buried  alive. 

As  I  took  my  text,  and  stood  in  the  centre  of 
the  dome,  the  cells  radiating  like  the  spokes  of  a 
wheel,  I  prayed,  agonized,  and  gesticulated,  but  met 
with  no  response,  heard  not  even  a  sob.  It  was 
the  silence  of  the  tomb.  I  went  away  chilled  and 
disheartened ;  I  had  been  preaching  to  naked 
walls. 

After  addressing  the  convicts  in  Sing  Sing  State 
Prison,  I  informed  them  that  such  as  were  anxious 
for  me  to  visit  their  cells,  as  they  passed  out,  could 


78  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

leave  their  number  with  the  warden.  One  per- 
son was  so  anxious,  that  he  seemed  almost  dis- 
tracted. When  I  approached  his  cell,  he  thrust 
his  fingers  as  far  through  the  grates  as  he  could, 
to  meet  my  hand ;  then  falling  upon  his  knees, 
the  first  words  he  uttered  were  :  "  My  mother  !  Oh, 
my  mother  !  what  wil1  she  say  ?  "  He  sobbed  and 
cried  for  some  time  before  I  could  hear  anything 
more. 

"Ah!"  said  he,  "  that  unbelief  that  you  spoke 
of  to-day  has  been  my  ruin.  What  might  I  have 
been  if  I  had  embraced  religion  ?  It  was  at  a  pro- 
tracted meeting  in  a  town  in  Maine,  that  I  was 
upon  the  point  of  deciding  my  religious  course 
for  life.  By  the  request  and  tears  of  my  mother, 
I  was  almost  persuaded  to  go  to  the  anxious  seat. 
I  promised  her  that  after  one  more  jolly  hour  I 
would  seek  religion.  My  convictions  were  distress- 
ing ;  I  feared  the  meetings,  and  a  mother's  face,  as 
I  did  the  grave.  From  such  an  agony  of  mind  I 
would  have  chosen  relief  in  death  ;  but  I  was  not 
prepared  to  die.  I  resolved  to  seek  relief  in  travel ; 
and  without  apprising  my  mother,  or  any  of  my 
friends,  I  went  to  the  savings  bank  and  got  all  the 
money  I  had  —  some  fifteen  hundred  dollars  — and 
started  for  Boston.  I  resorted  to  drinking  and 
to  gaming.  I  became  delirious,  and  lost  almost 
all  my  money.  At  times  I  would  think  of  home, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.'  79 

and  resolve  to  go  back  and  confess  my  guilt ;  then 
1  thought  there  could  be  no  mercy  for  one  who 
nad  done  such  despite  to  tho  Spirit  of  Grace,  so  I 
wandered  still  further  away.  I  spent  all  the  money 
I  had  in  getting  to  Worcester ;  then  pawned  my 
valise,  and  part  of  my  clothing,  to  carry  me  still 
further  on.  At  Springfield,  I  let  go  what  clothing 
I  could  possibly  spare,  and  went  on  foot.  Finally, 
my  wardrobe  became  30  shabby  that  people  would 
not  receive  me  into  their  houses.  Oh,  how  low  I 
had  fallen  1  I  began  to  think  of  returning  to 
Maine,  but  had  no  means  and  no  friends.  Still 
onward  I  went,  without  a  purpose  or  a  pla'ce,  only 
to  forget  the  past,  until  I  arrived  at  the  banks  of 
the  Hudson  ;  and  here,  as  I  stood,  cold,  hungry, 
and  almost  naked,  I  formed  the  desperate  resolu- 
tion to  steal.  I  thought,  by  breaking  into  a  store  at 
Poughkeepsie,  I  would  steal  enough  to  bear  my  ex- 
penses home,  then  ask  my  mother's  forgiveness, 
and  strive  to  lead  a  different  life ;  and  rather  than 
be  caught,  I  would  kill  the  first  man  that  opposed 
me.  Yet,  oh,  what  a  coward  I  I  broke  in,  but  was 
no  sooner  in  than  taken,  and  taken  without  the 
least  resistance.  I  felt  so  bad  when  I  was  enter- 
ing the  building,  my  conscience  troubled  me  so, 
and  I  trembled  so,  that  I  was  glad  to  be  taken,  and 
the  officers  seemed  friends  to  me.  And,  afterwards, 
I  was  thankful  that  I  was  discovered ;  for  if  I  had 


80  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

succeeded  in  my  first  attempt,  there  is  no  knowing 
where  it  might  have  ended.  In  this  prison  I  have 
had  time  to  read  and  reflect.  I  have  examined  the 
truth  of  divine  revelation,  and  have  found  it  to  bo 
just  the  thing  needful  to  my  soul.  In  it  I  have 
seen  the  reasons  for  a  mother's  anxiety  for  my 
conversion ;  and,  while  praying  in  this  cell,  her 
shadow  has  many  times  appeared  before  me. 
Though  it  be  in  imagination,  yet  it  has  been  a  com- 
fort to  me,  and  I  believe  it  has  been  through  her 
prayers  that  I  have  found  peace  in  believing.  I 
am  thankful  for  the  prison ;  this  punishment  has 
been  the  means  of  saving  my  soul.  For,  '  before 
I  was  afflicted  I  went  astray,  but  now  I  have  kept 
Thy  word.'  Now,  in  parting,  I  wish  a  favor  of 
you ;  and  that  is,  that  you  will  write  to  my  mother, 
and  not  mail  the  letter  at  this  place,  lest  some  may 
suspect  where  I  am.  My  mother  has  not  heard 
from  me  since  that  night  that  she  asked  me  to  go 
forward  for  prayers.  Tell  her  that  at  such  a  time 
I  shall  laud  at  New  York,  a  Christian  man,  and 
will  immediately  repair  for  home." 

I  mailed  the  letter  at  New  York,  according  to 
directions  ;  and  many  times  have  I  reflected  upon 
that  young  man's  career,  and  the  danger  of  resist- 
ing the  convictions  of  God's  Spirit. 


LIFE-STROGGLES.  83 


CHAPTEE    X. 

A  former  Pupil  in  Prison.  — Mary,  the  Drunkard's  Daughter. 

—  Drink  the  cause  of  Home-ruin.  —  A  Mother's  Confession. 

—  Power  of  Appetite.  —  Confession  of%  a  Convict.  —  Mis- 
placed  Confidence.  —  Return  to  Jail.  —  President  Nott'a 
Kindness  to  me.  —  Giving  up  a  Child  for  Christ 

JJRSUING  my  journey,  I  explored  the 
Connecticut  State  Prison,  and  having  paid 
a  visit  to  the  male  division,  proceeded  to 
inspect  the  inmates  of  the  female  depart- 
ment. As  they  entered  the  room  with  eyes  down- 
cast, the  prison  regulations  not  permitting  them  to 
look  up,  I  perceived,  by  the  dim  light  which 
passed  through  the  gratings,  a  countenance  which 
struck  me  with  unusual  interest. 

I  at  once  recognized  in  the  prison  garb  one 
of  my  old  pupils,  who  used  to  join  me  in  the 
school  prayer  and  praise.  The  emaciation  of  the 
prison  confinement  could  not  quite  destroy  her 
rare  beauty,  nor  did  the  uucouthncss  of  her 
costume  disguise  the  attractions  of  "her  form. 
How  well  I  remembered  her  bright  blue  eyes,  her 
rosy  cheeks,  and  the  innocent  smiles  that  were 
wont  to  light  up  her  lovely  features  !  Her  natural 
amiability  manifested  its  sweet  traits  in  her  kind- 
6 


82  SHADOWY  HAisno;  OR, 

ness  to  those  younger  than  herself.  How  she 
hurried,  in  the  cold  winter  mornings,  to  meet 
them  at  the  door,  to  brush  the  snow  from  theii 
frozen  feet,  and  to  thaw  them  by  her  pretty- 
caresses  ;  and  how  she  shared  her  ineals  between 
them !  Her  kindness  won  all  hearts.  Alas ! 
that  the  prison  should  receive  her !  I  know  not 
if  she  recognized,  by  the  sound  of  my  voice,  who 
the  stranger  was,  but  I  used  the  same  form  of 
prayer  we  had  been  accustomed  to  in  the  school- 
room. 

I  hastened  to  visit  her  mother.  At  my  appear- 
ance, she  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears,  and  the  first 
word  she  ejaculated  was  "  Mary  ! "  Her  voice 
faltered. 

"Mary,"  she  said,  after  recovering  a  little,  "is 
gone.  She  is  not  here,  and  she  has  not  gone 
to  the  grave.  Had  she  died  in  innocence,  what 
a  consolation  !  But  she  is  worse  than  dead  —  she 
is  disgraced  —  and  bringing  down  her  mother's 
gray  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave  !  Oh  !  Mary, 
my  own  dear  Mary,  was  too  good  a  child  to  be 
lost !  Seldom  did  I  hear  an  unkind  word  from 
her  until  a  short  time  before  she  left  home.  And 
then,  how  kind  to  me !  how  attentive  to  her 
dying  father  !  But  oh,  how  cruel  to  herself." 

She  then  told  me  the  sad  causes  of  Mary's  fall, 
and  how  ahe  had  drifted  into  crime.  Unquestiou- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  83 

ably  the  commencement  of  their  misery  was  the 
intemperance  of  her  late  husband,  which  had 
resulted  in  his  own  premature  decease,  the  ruin  of 
their  business,  the  dispersion  of  their  patrimony, 
and  the  necessary  leaving  of  their  ancient  home, 
the  reduction  of  the  mother  to  poverty,  and  the 
incarceration  of  her  daughter. 

K  Oh,  rum  !  rum  !  "  raved  the  distracted  woman, 
"what  has  it  not  done?  It  has  murdered  my 
husband,  ruined  my  family,  robbed  me  of  my 
home,  and  turned  me  out  upon  the  cold  charities 
of  the  world  ! " 

I  attempted  to  console  the  poor  mourner,  and 
bade  her  look  forward  to  seeing  her  daughter 
return  soon.  How  blissful  would  be  that  meet- 
ing ! 

I  left  her  more  than  ever  determined  to  devote 
my  life  to  the  cause  of  suffering  humanity.  Her 
narration  had  deeply  impressed  me ;  and  that 
I  might  learn  how  many  suffered  imprisonment 
on  account  of  the  crimes  of  their  parents,  I 
commenced  to  inspect  the  prisons  and  reform- 
atory schools  of  Boston,  New  York,  Philadelphia, 
and  various  others  throughout  the  United  States 
and  Canada,  presenting  my  observations  in  lectures 
to  the  public.  Maine  Laws  are  enacted,  temper- 
ance jubilees  and  celebrations  inaugurated,  but, 
alas  !  the  evil  continues.  "How  long?  O  Lord  ! 
How  Ion"?" 


84  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

Nothing  can  be  more  appalling  to  the  Christiau 
philanthropist,  as  he  passes  from  jail  to  peniten- 
tiary, than  the  vast  number  of  prisoners  who  admit, 
and  at  the  same  time  bear  evident  proofs  of  their 
veracity,  that  their  downfall  has  been  the  result  of 
intemperance.     A   victim    to   this    hydra-headed 
monster  related  this  sad  history  to   me  in  Albany 
jail,  New  York.     He  seemed  as  deeply  bound  by 
the  chains  of  appetite  as  by  the  iron  bolts  and 
bars  that  held  him.     He  was  an  old  man  of  sixty 
years,  and  had  graduated  from  more  institutions 
of  this  kind  than  most  men  of  his  age.     But,  as  he 
related  his  trials,  and  wept  and  begged  so  hard  for 
me  to  assist  him  in  his  release,  I  could  but  pity 
him,  notwithstanding  his  crimes.     Said  he  : 

"  I  am  an  old  man  of  three-score  years,  and  have 
spent  most  of  those  years  in  sorrow,  and  many  of 
them  in  prison.  Several  times  have  I  been  sen- 
tenced to  Sing  Sing,  and  several  times  to  the  pen- 
itentiary on  the  hill  of  this  city,  and  all  through 
strong  drink.  When  in  liquor  I  had  no  regard  for 
human  life,  and  felt  as  if  I  wanted  to  kill  every 
man  I  saw.  Yet,  once  I  had  a  home,  and  wife 
and  child,  who  were  all  loveliness  to  me,  and  in  my 
sober  moments  I  loved  them  better  than  myself, 
and  would  make  any  sacrifice  for  their  welfare. 
The  ouiy  times  when  I  was  severely  punished  in 
prison  were  when  transgressing  the  rules  to  inquire 
concerning  mv  family. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  85 

"There  was  a  person  who  came  to  the  prison  from 
my  own  neigborhood,  and  I  was  anxious  to  hear 
from  him  about  my  home.  Did  my  wife  still 
remember  me  ?  and  would  my  child  still  call  me 
'father?'  I  found  that  they  had  not  cast  me  off,  that 
they  were  still  mine  ;  but  my  transgression  against 
the  rules  of  the  prison  could  not  go  unpunished, 
and  I  was  brought  up  to  the  lash.  Five  times  was 
I  lashed  for  speaking  of  home,  and  five-aud-twenty 
times  would  I  have  been,  if  my  wife  could  have 
looked  on  and  seen  me  suffer,  and  then  have  for- 
given me.  Oh  !  I  felt  that  the  lash  was  too  easy 
for  such  a  hardened  wretch  as  I  had  been,  and 
came  with  too  mild  a  hand.  I  cried  to  the  adminis- 
trator, *  Strike  harder,  sir!  Strike  harder!  you 
cannot  reach  the  flinty  hardness  of  my  heart.'  It 
needs  an  iron  rod,  with  sinews  of  steel,  to  pierce 
me  to  the  quick  ! 

"That  night  I  dreamed  of  home,  and  the  dream 
paid  me  for  all-  my  suffering.  I  dreamed  that  I 
was  a  reformed  man ;  I  was  pardoned  by  the 
Governor  and  by  the  public,  and  was  clothed,  and 
in  my  right  mind,  and  was  journeying  towards 
home.  I  was  fearful  that  I  should  not  be  received, 
and  trembled.  Carefully  I  approached  the  door ; 
tremblingly  I  raised  the  latch ;  and  what  was  my 
joy,  when  my  wife  welcomed  me  as  if  all  were 
forgiven  and  all  forgotten  I  Her  first  look  was 


86  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

kindness  and  love;  and  as  she  embraced  me>  1 
reached  forth  my  hand  to  grasp  my  little  Nelly ; 
she  climbed  up  into  my  lap,  and  printed  the  pure, 
lovely  kiss  upon  my  pale,  prison-worn  cheek, 
and  put  her  little  tender  arms  around  my  unworthy 
neck  so  sweetly,  so  innocently,  so  tenderly,  that 
with  the  excitement  I  awoke,  reaching  forth  my 
hands ;  but  I  found  it  was  all  a  dream,  —  a 
phantom !  I  embraced  nothing  but  empty  air, 
and  struck  my  arms  only  against  iron  bars  and 
rocky  walls.  I  rolled  on  my  hard  pallet,  goaded 
by  despair,  and  the  smarting  of  the  cutting, 
festering  flesh  made  sore  by  the  lash. 

"Five  years  passed  before  that  dream  was  ful- 
filled; and  when  fill  tilled,  I  came  home  only  to 
break  that  woman's  heart,  and  send  her  to  the  grave. 
Oh,  that  drink  !  that  death-dooming  drink  !  Oh, 
the  appetite  that  cries,  '  Give  !  give  ! '  And  yet 
an  ocean  would  not  slake  its  thirst.  Again  I  was 
enraged  with  rum  in  a  mad  fight,  and  again 
was  sent  to  prison.  Oh,  sir,  my  life  has  been 
made  up  of  prison-life  and  sorrow !  And  now, 
sir,  I  thank  you  for  hearing  me  so  patiently ;  and 
if  I  may  trespass  further,  I  will  make  one  request : 
my  health  is  now  broken,  I  am  old  and  decrepit, 
and  I  want  once  more  to  breathe  the  free  country 
air.  If  you  will  intercede  for  me  at  the  court, 
that  I  may  not  be  sent  to  the  penitentiary  again, 


UFE.-STIIUGGLES.  87 

you  will  do  me  a  great  favor,  and,  I  hope,  God 
service.  I  know  my  failing ;  I  know  I  cannot 
resist  temptation  when  exposed  ;  but  I  pledge  you 
that,  if  I  shall  be  released,  I  will  not  stay  one 
hour  in  Albany,  but  will  repair  immediately  to 
the  country,  where,  with  a  temperate  family,  I 
hope  I  may  spend  the  quiet  of  my  days.  Then, 
sir,  if  you  are  a  friend  of  humanity,  do  not  let 
this  opportunity  fail  you  of  blessing  an  old  man, 
whose  days  at  the  longest  are  but  few,  whose 
locks  are  already  white  for  the  grave,  and  whoso 
feet  have  trod  long  enough  the  thorny  paths  of 
sorrow  and  crime  !  " 

I  presented  the  case  before  the  judge,  and  asked 
his  leniency  to  the  victim,  as  a  favor  to  myself  as 
well  as  to  him.  The  judge  informed  me  that  ho 
was  willing  to  show  me  a  favor,  considering  my 
mission.  "But,"  said  he,  "to  see  how  little  good 
you  can  do  in  such  a  case,  I  wish  you  to  watch  the 
jail  for  the  same  person  again." 

And,  sure  enough,  when  the  man  went  out  he 
had  three  cents,  and  as  he  must  walk  some  dis- 
tance, and  his  nerves  were  all  unstrung,  he  thought 
to  get  a  little  tobacco  ;  and  when  he  came  near  the 
shop,  the  insatiate  appetite  gnawed  as  a  canker 
upon  his  vitals,  and  perhaps  a  little  beer  might 
steady  his  nerves  and  not  injure  him.  But,  upon 
entering,  his  power  of  resistance  was  insufficient ; 


88  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

he  had  hold  of  the  decanter  before  he  knew  hardly 
what  he  was  about ;  and  when  once  he  had  tasted, 
he  knew  not  when  to  stop ;  in  a  moment  he  be- 
came delirious,  and  the  keeper  was  obliged  to  force 
the  bottle  from  his  hand,  and  call  in  an  officer. 
Oh,  how  shamed  that  man  looked  next  day,  when 
I  saw  him  in  the  same  cell  again  !  He  made  no 
apology.  Said  he  : ' 

"I  am  a  doomed  man ;  for  me  there  is  no  hope. 
Go  and  warn  the  young  !  Tell  them  that  the  first 
draught  is  the  guilty  draught.  I  thank  you  for 
your  kindness,  but  all  is  of  no  avail  to  me.  The 
few  days  that  I  have  to  spend  on  earth  will  be  as 
the  days  that  are  past,  fraught  with  sorrow,  and 
full  of  trouble.  Let  the  prison  be  my  home  ;  let 
its  damps  bleach  these  white  locks ;  let  its  walls 
echo  my  groans ;  let  my  ear  hear  nothing  but  the 
creaking  bolts  ;  and  let  my  eye  grow  dim  with  the 
darkness  of  my  cell.  I  am  not  fit  to  live ;  and, 
oh,  I  fear  that  I  am  not  fit  to  die  ! " 

I  prayed  with  the  old  man,  and  strove  to  con- 
sole him.  He  wept,  and  kissed  my  hand,  and 
blessed  me  with  a  thousand  thanks,  and  bade  me 
go  and  warn  the  young,  and  never  to  spend  my 
breath  in  striving  to  save  one  so  degraded  as  he. 

A  pleasant  reminiscence  shines  out  about  this 
time.  I  was  invited  to  make  my  home  at  the  house 
of  President  Nott,  of  Union  College,  Scheuectady. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  89 

He  was  exceedingly  kind  to  me,  gave  me  advice 
like  a  father,  and  also  several  valuable  presents. 
Oh,  how  feelingly  that  venerable  old  man  prayed 
for  me  !  Too  old  to  kneel,  yet,  with  his  hands  over 
me  in  prayer,  I  felt  like  the  sous  of  Jacob  receiv- 
ing their  blessing. 

He  sent  me  in  his  carriage  to  the  almshouse, 
and  would  have  gone  with  me  but  for  preaching 
in  his  own  church  at  that  hour.  At  six  o'clock, 
by  his  direction,  I  had  assembled  for  me,  in  the 
Methodist  church,  the  largest  audience  that  I  thus 
far  had  ever  addressed.  President,  professors,  stu- 
dents and  ministers,  all  hung  spell-bound  upon 
my  lips  ;  and  when  I  contrasted  the  education  of 
those  students  with  the  subjects  of  my  mission  — 
the  drunkards'  children,  schooled  in  vice  and 
trained  for  prison  —  I  found  response  in  many  a 
countenance  that  told  me  my  words  were  not  in 
vain.  My  address  was  listened  to  with  marked 
attention,  and  many  friendly  greetings  were  prof- 
fered to  me. 

In  Troy,  New  York,  I  met  with  a  very  interesting 
case.  I  found  my  way  to  the  poor-house  there,  and 
was  shown  a  poor  woman  dying.  She  had  once 
experienced  religion,  but  had  lost  the  evidence.  I 
prayed  with  her,  but  failed  to  assist  her  in  making 
God's  promises  her  own.  She  doubted,  and  even 
despaired.  1  read,  and  prayed,  and  sung,  but  all 


90  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

to  no  purpose.  The  wing  of  her  faith  would  not 
mount  upward,  —  it  was  tied  below.  I  stated 
that  she  must  have  some  idol  that  she  would  not 
give  up  for  Christ,  —  something  that  she  loved 
more  than  him.  She  replied  : 

"  What  can  I  have  ?  I  am  poor.  I  have  nothing 
in  this  world.  Even  this  bed,  and  the  clothes  I 
have  on,  are  not  my  own.  I  have  nothing  that  I 
can  call  my  own.  Why,  then,  am  I  not  blessed  ?  " 

At  this  moment  a  little  child  came  prattling  into 
the  room,  with  string  and  stick  and  hobby-horse. 
He  was  just  beginning  to  lisp  the  name  of  "mother." 
A  flash  came  over  her  countenance  as  she  gazed 
iipon  the  dear  object  of  her  love.  There  was  her 
idol.  She  had  one  object  to  live  for,  and  she  could 
not  be  resigned  to  die.  That  child  was  fatherless, 
and  soon  must  be  deprived  of  its  only  friend. 
Could  that  mother  leave  it  ? 

And  now  it  dropped  its  playthings,  and  climbed 
upon  the  bed,  and  laid  its  little  head  upon  the  same 
pillow,  and  flung  its  little  tender  arms  around  her 
neck,  and  printed  the  pure,  warm  kiss  upon  her 
cheek,  and  prattled  gently,  "Mamma  be  so  sick ! 
mamma  die  ! " 

The  poor  pale,  dying  mother  threw  her  attenu- 
ated arms  around  it,  and  sobbing,  cried,  "No,  my 
little  Johnny,  mamma  cannot  die  !  you  would  have 
no  mother."  Then,  exhausted,  she  laid  it  upon 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  91 

the  pillow,  and  gazed  into  its  bright  blue  eyes,  as 
they  were  looking  back  into  hers,  and  there  sho 
gazed,  and  gazed,  as  if  she  would  drink  in  its 
spirit  by  looking.  She  seemed  unwilling  even  lo 
move  her  eyes  from  the  eyes  of  her  darling,  fear- 
ing to  break  the  spell. 

There,  gleaming  from  those  little  orbs,  was  the 
image  of  the  father,  —  the  father  that  had  been 
suddenly  carried  to  his  grave ;  and  there  were  the 
features  of  purity  and  innocence,  and,  as  to  actual 
transgression,  pure  as  a  snow-flake  just  from 
heaven.  And  could  she  leave  that  child  to  the  cold 
charities  of  the  world? — to  the  stranger,  Avho 
would  abuse  it,  starve  it,  whip  it,  with  no  mother 
to  take  its  part?  She  could  not  die  ;  she  must  not 
die.  No !  no  I  she  could  not  give  up  all  for 
Christ. 

She  turned  her  face  to  the  wall,  and  prayed. 
She  prayed  silently,  but  long ;  and,  judging  by 
the  quivering  of  the  lip  and  the  flashes  and  shad- 
ows that  came  over  her  features,  she  was  excited  to 
no  common  emotion.  Her  eyes  were  closed,  and, 
in  the  dark  gloom  of  God's  mysterious  providence, 
she  was  looking  for  a  ray  of  hope.  She  prayed 
that  she  might  give  up  all  for  Christ;  and  bless  the 
rod  that  smote  her.  She  uttered  no  sound  save 
whispering  sighs,  for  the  Spirit  was  interceding 
with  groanings  that  could  not  be  uttered. 


92  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

At  last,  with  her  eyes  and  hands  extended 
towards  heaven,  she  cried,  "  I  yield  !  I  yield  ! "  and 
in  a  moment  her  countenance  lit  up  with  joy,  and 
she  clapped  her  hands,  and  said,  "Oh,  the  joys 
of  believing  !  Oh,  the  love  of  Jesus  !  If  I  had  a 
score  of  children  I  would  give  them  all  for  Jesus  !" 

She  died  very  happy,  trusting  her  only  earthly 
care  in  the  hands  of  her  Jesus. 

Leaving  Schenectady,  I  vi  tited  the  almshouses 
in  the  northern  counties  of  New  York,  and  also 
the  State  prison  in  Clinton  County.  At  this 
prison  I  obtained  much  valuable  information  con- 
cerning the  evils  of  intemperance  and  crime,  aud 
heard  several  anecdotes  of  the  most  thrilling  kind. 
While  witnessing  the  culprits  working  out  in  the 
dark,  damp  mines  the  penalty  of  their  crimes, 
their  doleful  look  of  despair  at  sight  of  a  preacher 
of  the  gospel,  aud  their  trembling  at  the  name 
of  the  Bible,  with  their  hard,  rewardless  labor 
in  pecking  at  the  ore  and  digging  deeper  their 
own  dungeon,  surrounded  by  armed  guards 
marching  to  and  fro  with  weapons  of  death,  I 
thought  of  the  place  where  "the  angels  which 
kept  not  their  first  estate,  but  left  their  own 
habitation,  He  hath  reserved  in  everlasting  chains, 
under  darkness,  unto  the  judgment  of  the  great 
day." 

The  Balhton  Journal,  in  referring  to  my  efforts 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  93 

in  this  neighborhood,  says  :  "Mr.  Henry  Morgan, 
of  Connecticut,  is  now  taking  a  tour  in  this  county, 
and  lecturing  on  temperance.  .  .  .  He  does 
not  do  this  for  the  purpose  of  gaining  a  livelihood, 
but  he  lectures  without  fee  or  reward.  He 
devotes  himself  entirely  to  the  mission  and  work 
of  temperance,  visiting  the  sick  and  in  prison."' 

The  Troy  Family  Journal  adds :  *  His  argu- 
ments were  conclusive ;  the  manner  and  zeal 
showed  a  heart  full  of  benevolence,  and  Christian 
philanthrophy  and  patriotism.  No  one  can  hear 
him  without  being  aroused  to  a  sense  of  duty." 


94  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 


CHAPTEK    XI. 

"  Over  the  Rapids." — Fate  of  lllchard  Leedom.  —  The  Press 
on  my  "Ways  and  Means."  —  My  Dangerous  Joke.  —  A 
Drunkard's  Conversion.  —  A  Wife's  Pleading. — A  Child's 
Successful  Eloquence.  — Accident  on  the  White  Mountains. 
— Nashua  Paper.  — The  Lost  Lamb.  — Charlie  in  Heaven. 

THEN  made  a  pedestrian  tour  to  Montreal 
and  various  parts  of  Canada.  I  visited 
Niagara  and  the  Thousand  Islands.  I  was 
intensely  interested  in  the  innumerable  de- 
scriptions I  received  of  the  dangers  of  the  Rapids. 
Amongst  these  none  was  more  thrilling  than  the 
fate  of  poor  Leedom,  a  Buffalo  man,  still  a  sub- 
ject of  frequent  discussion. 

On  a  bright,  sunny  morning,  he  started  on  Niag- 
ara River  with  his  gun.  Game  was  plentiful,  and 
he  was  successful.  A  hunter's  enchantment  took 
full  possession  of  his  soul.  He  thought  not  of 
time,  nor  the  speed  of  the  tide,  but  was  borne 
upon  the  heaving  bosom  of  the  silver  stream, 
calmly  as  an  infant  upon  its  mother's  breast.  On, 
on,  he  was  borne,  thinking  not  of  the  future,  but, 
all  absorbed  in  the  interest  of  the  sport,  was  lost 
in  forgetf ulness.  Still  on  he  was  carried,  and  on, 
until,  before  ho  thought  of  danger,  he  found  him- 

O  O         ' 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  95 

self  among  the  rapids  above  Niagara  Falls  !  Now 
lie  saw  how  swiftly  the  distant  shore  and  each  pro- 
jecting rock  were  passing,  and  now  he  resolved  to 
turn  his  course.  But,  when  endeavoring  to  oppose 
the  tide,  for  the  first  time  did  he  feel  its  irresist- 
ible power.  When  turning  his  boat  the  waves 
shook  him  more  violently  than  ever,  and  more 
swiftly  was  ho  borne  downward,  until  death  ap- 
peared inevitable.  But  having  before  faced  both 
danger  and  death,  and  being  brave  in  the  hour  of 
peril,  he  was  resolved  not  to  die  without  a  strug- 
gle. Swift  as  thought,  he  took  his  position,  and 
braced  his  feet,  and  placed  his  oars,  and  headed 
the  stream.  And  now  for  an  effort,  come  life  or 
death.  Arms  !  do  your  best !  Nerves  !  string 
your  strength  !  Oar  !  roll  back  the  mighty  tide  ! 
Life  !  life  !  life  !  is  in  the  struggle.  But  all  was 
in  vain.  Down  !  down  !  he  flew,  swifter  than  a 
weaver's  shuttle,  swifter  than  an  arrow  sped  in  air, 
and  swifter  than  the  swift-footed  Asahel  running 
to  his  own  destruction.  At  length  he  saw  a  rock 
projecting  above  the  wave,  right  in  his  course ; 
and  just  below  him,  upon  the  bridge  extending 
from  Goat  Island  to  the  American  shore,  two  men 
were  standing,  and  one  of  them  started  for  a  rope, 
but  found  there  was  no  time.  Richard  saw  them, 
and  saw  the  rock  just  before  him,  and  knew  not 
what  to  do.  Without  a  moment's  delay  he  must 


96  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

leap,  now  or  never,  and  he  cried  out,  ''Tell  me  ! 
tell  me  !  Shall  I  jump  out  of  the  boat?  Shall  1 
leap  for  the  rock? "  But  they  dare  not  speak,  lest 
they  should  tell  him  wrong ;  and  on  he  was  car- 
ried, down  by  the  rock,  by  the  piers  of  the  bridge, 
down  !  down  !  and  now  upon  the  brink.  With 
the  mists  of  death  festooning  his  brow,  and  the 
thunderings  of  Niagara's  roar  ringing  death's  knell 
in  his  ears,  he  gazes  for  the  last  time  upon  that 
brilliant  sun  now  shining,  far  up  the  stream,  upon 
his  happy  home,  his  unsuspecting  wife,  and  his 
two  happy  children  at  play,  and  he  sinks  I  he 
sinks  to  rise  no  more  ! 

My  Labors. —  But  small  success  attended  my 
efforts  in  Canada,  however,  as  the  institutions 
were  for  the  most  part  Roman  Catholic,  and  many 
of  the  people  spoke  French ;  so  I  turned  my  face 
homeward. 

The  Burlington  Courier,  alluding  to  a  speech, 
says : 

"Mr.  Morgan,  of  Connecticut,  a  young  man, 
who,  unlike  a  large  portion  of  temperance  lecturers, 
goes  about  lecturing  without  levying  contributions 
for  his  support,  and  whose  benevolent  labors 
among  the  inmates  of  jails,  poor-houses,  and 
State  prisons,  have  earned  him  so  extended  and 
just  a  reputation  for  goodness,  lectured  here  on 
Sunday  evening.  He  is  well  qualified  for  his 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  97 

work,  and  has  an  earnest,  sincere,  and  forcible 
mannor,  which  commends  his  appeals  to  the  hearts 
of  his  hearers.  We  wish  him  abundant  success 
in  his  career  of  unostentatious  benevolence,  and 
invoke  for  him  the  good  offices  of  our  brethren 
of  the  press,  in  whose  vicinity  he  may  chance  to 
be." 

The  Green  Mountain  Freeman,  in  like  strain, 
pertinently  remarks : 

"  Have  we  not  already  relied  on  law  too  much, 
for  remedying  the  evils  of  intemperance  ?  Here 
is  a  man  who  works  with  moral  suasion,  and  not 
for  money." 

I  pursued  my  journey  through  Bradford %Mont- 
pelier,  etc.,  and  parts  adjacent,  lecturing,  preach- 
ing, holding  prayer-meetings,  and  visiting  tho 
almshouses  and  prisons.  The  Claremont  Eagle 
says  : 

"Mr.  Hemy  Morgan,  known  in  the  public 
journals  as  one  who  visits  prisons,  almshouses, 
and  hospitals  throughout  the  country,  is  now 
taking  a  tour  throughout  the  State ;  and  we  would 
advise  those  who  can,  to  secure  his  services. 
He  goes  to  his  Master's  work  without  charge  or 
collection.  He  has  lectured  here,  and  in  the  towns 
adjoining.  In  hearing  him  one  can  almost  see 
the  low,  floorless  hut,  with  its  wreck  of  humanity, 
the  di*urikard's  wife,  brooding  over  her  smouldering 
7 


98  SHADOWY    HAND  ;    OR, 

embers,  while  darkness  and  storm  have  no  sympa- 
thy with  her  tears,  and  while  the  children's  hungry 
cries  are  hushed  by  their  own  weariness.  He 
pictured  man  whose  inflamed  passion  has  urged 
him  on  to  deeds  of  the  darkest  dye.  Mr.  Morgan 
must  produce  an  effect  upon  his  hearers.  We 
wish  him  success  in  his  unselfish  labors  for  the 
cause  of  humanity." 

The  Vermont  family  Gazette  reports  a  meeting 
held  at  Bradford,  Oct.  4,  1850,  as  Resolving — 

"  That  Henry  Morgan,  who  has  recently  lectured 
before  his  friends  in  this  place,  is  honorably 
endeavoring  to  do  good ;  and  that  we  owe  him  a 
a  debt  of  gratitude  which  we  cannot  repay,  as  he 
will  receive  no  remuneration.  That  we  recom- 
mend him  to  the  confidence. of  all  good  men, 
considering  he  is  worthy  of  our  highest  commen- 
dation, and  that  he  should  be  furnished  with  every 
encouragement  "to  fulfil  his  mission." 

At  Windsor  State  Prison  I  perpetrated  a  most 
cruel  joke.  I  wrote  to  my  mother,  "Don't  cry, 
mother !  I'm  in  prison,  locked  up  in  a  cell.  I 
write  you  on  a  convict's  bench.  Don't  cry !  I 
shall  be  out  by-and-bye  !  " 

Then  I  explained  matters,  —  that  I  had  come  to 
minister  to  the  sorrowing.  My  mother,  on  receiv- 
ing the  letter,  read  only  the  first  line,  and  dropped 
it,  falling  into  a  hysterical  fit.  She  had  been  read- 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  99 

ing  the  "  Life  of  Torrey,"'  the  martyr,  in  prison  for 
aiding  slaves  to  escape.  She  thought  I  had  done 
the  same,  and  was  a  ruined  man  ;  besides,  she  had 
not  received  a  letter  from  me  since  I  went  to 
Canada.  That  first  line  of  the  letter,  "  Don't  cry, 
mother  !  "  was  too  much  for  her,  and  she  had  to 
take  to  her  bed.  The  sport  was  too  cruel  for  me 
ever  to  repeat. 

Child's  Eloquence. — It  was  on  a  cold  wintry 
morning,  while  travelling  in  the  northern  pail  of 
the  State  of  New  Hampshire,  that  I  entered  the 
dwelling  of  an  intemperate  man  to  solicit  his 
name  to  the  pledge.  He  treated  me  respectfully, 
appeared  quite  intelligent,  and,  in  his  sober 
moments,  seemed  very  kindly  disposed.  Hew- 
ever,  he  was  set  against  signing  the  pledge ;  he 
had  covenanted  with  his  companions  never  to  do 
it.  He  had  recently  been  on  a  spree ;  and  the 
bruises  on  his  wife  told  but  too  well  what  might 
be  her  anxiety  for  his  salvation  from  rum.  I 
pleaded  with  him  earnestly  to  pledge  himself  upon 
the  question  ;  and  stated,  that  with  his  companions 
a  bad  promise  had  better  be  broken  than  kept. 
He  said  that  he  never  intended  to  drink  any  more, 
but  he  should  live  according  to  his  promise,  and 
never  sign  the  pledge. 

Now  I  knew  that  unless  he  got  publicly  com- 
mitted, and  had  his  name  go  abroad  upon  the 


SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

pledge  as  a  temperance  man,  he  could  not  continue 
long  in  abstinence.  I  therefore,  to  awaken  his 
feelings,  began  to  talk  of  his  family.  Said  I, 
"You  must  have  a  regard  for  your  family, — for 
your  wife  and  child ;  you  must  love  those  who 
appear  before  me  so  lovely." 

"Love  them  !  "  said  he,  "  God  knows  my  heart. 
I  do.  If  ever  a  man  loved  his  family,  I  am  the 
man ;  and  if  ever  there  was  a  family  worthy  to 
be  loved,  it  is  mine ;  yet,  look !  look  on  that 
face  of  my  wife,  and  see  the  bruises  that  I  have 
made.  See  how  meekly  she  bears  all  this,  and 
without  a  murmur.  Oh,  sir,  I  shall  never  drink 
any  more !  " 

?Then,"  said  the  wife,  taking  advantage  of 
his  feelings  as  she  came  in  suppliant  tones  before 
him,  "then  why  not  sign  the  pledge?" 

"  I  have  told  you,"  said  he,  "  that  I  have  already 
pledged  myself  not  to  sign,  and  I  shall  keep  my 
word." 

The  firm  tone  in  which  he  spoke,  showed  but 
too  plainly  the  strength  of  his  decision.  It  was 
a  trying  moment  for  that  wife,  and  while  I  was 
still  conversing  with  him  she  retired  behind  him 
to  the  corner  of  the  room,  with  much  agitation  of 
feeling.  I  saw  her  hands  clasped,  her  eyes  fixed 
on  heaven,  and  her  lips  were  moving ;  yet  I  heard 
no  sound.  Oh,  what  a  struggle  was  there  in 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  101 

prayer !  Thq  happiness,  and  even  the  life  of  her- 
self and  child,  seemed  to  hang  upon  the  moment. 
Now  all  broken  down  in  spirit,  and  with  the  crys- 
tal pearls  dropping  from  her  eyes  —  a  wife's  own 
eloquence  —  she  comes  before  him,  and  pleads 
again,  but  again  is  refused.  He  was  only  irritated 
by  the  appeal,  and  seemed  more  averse  to  the 
pledge  than  ever.  But  God  had  chosen  a  more 
eloquent  voice  than  hers  to  do  the  work. 

The  little  girl  came  flitting  by,  with  ringlets  fly- 
ing, and  countenance  all  beaming  with  innocence, 
with  confidence  and  with  hope,  and  climbing  up 
into  his  lap,  as  if  she  had  full  command  there, 
she  threw  her  little  tender  arms  around  his  neck, 
imprinted  love's  own  kiss  upon  his  pale  cheek, 
and  looking  wistfully  in  his  eye,  as  if  she  had 
something  wonderful  to  tell  him,  and  could  not 
be  resisted,  "Father,"  said  she,  "the  school-chil- 
dren say  I  am  a  drunkard's  child,  and  they  won't 
play  with  me.  What  does  it  mean?  What  is  a 
drunkard's  child?  Is  it  because  I  be  a  naughty 
girl?  Is  it  because  mother  has  no  other  child? 
Is  it  because  the  baby  died  while  you  was  gone  so 
long,  and  mother  was  so  sick,  and  I  am  left  alone? 
What  makes  them  call  me  so  ?  Is  it  because  you 
drink  rum?  Oh,  father,  sign  the  pledge,  mother 
cry  so  !  She  be  so  lame  ;  she  feel  so  bad.  Then, 
oh,  father,  sign  the  pledge  I  Do  sign!  Mother 


102  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

sign,  Jennie  sign,  and  father  sign  :  you  will  sign, 
won't  you,  father?" 

"Yes,  yes!"  cried  the  father;  "you  shall  no 
more  be  called  a  drunkard's  child.  Leap  to  my 
arms,  my  innocent !  my  darling  !  my  angel !  You 
have  saved  your  father !  He  can  never  see  you 
ragged  in  the  streets,  with  none  to  play  with  you, 
while  he  spends  his  earning?  for  rum.  He  can 
never  see  you  turned  out  of  school,  and  abused 
for  my  sake.  No,  I  will  not  drink.  No,  never! 
never!  never!  will  I  drink  any  more." 

He  then  took  down  his  Bible,  and  fastened  a 
pledge  in  it,  and  recorded  with  his  own  hand  the 
three  names, —  a  triune  of  happy  persons.  Oh, 
how  winning  is  the  eloquence  of  a  child  ! 

While  traversing  the  White  Mountains,  in 
October,  1850, 1  heard  of  the  sad  fate  of  a  son  of 
a  baronet,  who  perished  on  Mount  Washington  the 
year  before.  It  was  late  in  the  season ;  the  guide 
refused  to  ascend,  and  advised  him  to  desist,  as 
snow-storms  were  frequent,  and  it  was  twelve  miles 
from  the  Notch  House.  Still  he  persisted  :  alone, 
and  on  foot,  he  made  the  ascent. 

No  sooner  had  he  arrived  at  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain, than  a  terrific  snow-squall  set  in.  The  nar- 
row bridle-path  was  filled  with  snow,  and  entirely 
obliterated  from  view.  He  lost  his  way,  was  com- 
pletely bewildered,  and  wandered  from  point  to 


y 

LIFE-STRUGGLES.  103 


point,  until  he  found  a  stream ;  then  following 
the  rivulet  down  precipices  and  ledges,  grasping 
brushwood  and  shrubbery,  he  cried,  "Lost! 
lost ! " 

Drenched  and  exhausted,  he  threw  away  his 
satchel,  then  his  coat,  and  pressed  on,  but  all  to 
110  avail.  His  fate  was  sealed.  Next  morning  a 
search  was  made  for  him  ;  neighbors  gathered  for 
miles  around.  They  tracked  him  down  the  moun- 
tain,—  first  found  his  garments,  and  finally,  the 
unfortunate  man.  There  he  lay  upon  the  cold 
snow,  which  was  his  winding-sheet,  his  gold  watch 
still  ticking  upon  his  breast,  while  his  heart  had 
ceased  to  beat. 

I  sympathized  with  his  fate,  because,  one  year 
after,  I  was  alone,  and  in  a  similar  storm,  on  the 
same  mountain,  but  a  "Shadowy  Hand"  was  over 
me.  His  cries  of  "Lost !  lost !  "  heard  by  a  dis- 
tant hunter,  have  aided  me  in  illustrating  many  an 
earnest  appeal  to  the  youthful  wanderer  on  the 
dark  mountains  of  sin  and  unbelief.  * 

I  visited  the  New  Hampshire  State  Prison, — 
Rev.  Mr.  Smith,  Chaplain.  He  gave  a  notice  of 
my  labors  to  the  papers.  I  was  called  the  "  Friend 
of  Man." 

I  lectured  in  Concord,  and  Manchester,  and 
Nashua.  The  Oasis  gave  the  following : 

"Mr.  Henry  Morgan  lectured  upon  temperance 


104  SHADOWY    HAND  ;    OR, 

in  the  town  hall  in  this  place x  on  Sunday  evening 
last,  to  a  crowded  audience,  and  to  good  accept- 
ance. His  style  of  lecturing  is  such  as  stirs  the 
hearts  and  moves  the  sympathies  of  the  masses ; 
and  thousands  who  are  suffering  in  bondage  to 
this  vice,  together  with  those  who  are  made  sharers 
in  the  miseries  of  a  life  of  intemperance,  will  find 
in  him  a  friend  and  sympathizer.  We  commend 
him  to  the  friends  of  the  cause  wherever  he  may 

go-" 

I  prayed  in  a  family  where  a  youthful  mother 

was  holding  in  her  arms  her  first-born.  She  was 
proud  of  her  treasure,  and  so  engrossed  with  its 
attention  that  she  could  think  of  but  little  else. 
She  had  professed  religion,  and  her  husband  was 
a  praying  man ;  but  now  the  object  of  her  worship 
was  dancing  in  her  lap.  In  vain  did  she  strive 
to  look  upward ;  she  could  not  disguise  the  fact,  — 
her  idol  was  below.  When  we  spoke  of  the  love 
of  Christ,  she  would  look  on  little  Charlie  ;  when 
we  sung,  her  chief  object  was  to  see  whether  he 
noticed  it;  and  when  we  prayed,  her  thoughts 
could  not  go  above  the  earth.  True,  she  could  sing 
psalms,  but  it  was  for  his  amusement ;  she  could 
talk  of  love,  but  it  was  love  to  the  child,  not  to 
God;  and  she  could  kneel,  but  it  was  at  the 
cradle  instead  of  the  altar.  And  as  to  talking 
in  meetings,  she  believed  that  St.  Paul  was  right 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  105 

iu  ordering  the  women  to  keep  silent  in  the 
churches.  In  short,  she  could  talk  happily,  ana 
laugh  and  sing,  but  she  could  not  pray.  There 
was  no  need  of  praying ;  she  seemed  to  have 
nothing  to  pray  for ;  all  that  she  wanted  she 
had,  and  all  that  she  could  have  besides  would 
be  worth  nothing.  So  she  was  very  indifferent 
about  religion,  and  could  trifle  a  little,  and 
indulge  in  a  joke  about  professors.  She  thought 
that  if  all  the  professors  in  the  world  were  as 
good  and  pure  as  her  baby  was,  they  would  all 
be  saved  at  last,  and  go  right  straight  to  heaven, 
and  no  mistake. 

After  this  I  saw  her  in  meeting.  She  was 
dressed  in  mourning ;  and  her  little  Charlie  was 
no  more.  By  a  single  stroke,  without  an  hour's 
warning,  he  had  "  been  taken,  and  was  not,  for  God 
took  him."  What  a  change  in  that  woman  !  Ah  ! 
she  could  speak  in  meeting  now,  she  could  not 
keep  silent ;  the  crushed  flower  could  give  forth  its 
odor,  and  the  pine-tree  could  sing  in  the  winter's 
wind. 

"I  ana  so  unworthy,"  she  cried.  Then  she  closed 
her  hands  together,  and  sobbed  and  groaned,  but 
she  could  speak  no  further.  Again  she  cried, 
after  recovering  a  little,  "I  had  an  idol  that  stood 
between  me  and  my  Saviour,  and  the  Lord  took  it. 
I  am  so  unworthy, —  unworthy  to  live.  'The 


106  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  taketh  away ;  blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord.'  I  was  not  fit  to  have  so 
choice  a  treasure.  It  was  too  pure  for  so  sinful  a 
mother.  As  I  saw  it,  when  dying,  raise  its  little 
eyes  and  its  little  hands,  and  look  so  wistfully,  as 
it  was  going,  going  far  from  me,  I  thought  of  the 
story  you  told  about  a  lamb.  A  sheep  had  wan- 
dered with  her  lamb  away  from  the  fold,  and  the 
farmer  could  not  drive  her  back.  After  much 
fruitless  running,  he  succeeded  in  catching  the 
lamb,  but  not  the  sheep.  He  seized  the  lamb,  and 
held  it  in  his  bosom.  The  sheep  ran  away  a  few 
rods,  but  missing  her  lamb,  she  returned,  bleat- 
ing. The  farmer  turned  towards  the  fold,  and  the 
sheep  followed.  Nearer  and  nearer  she  came, 
looking  up  to  him,  and  bleating  desperately,  until 
she  followed  him  within  the  fold  into  the  yard,  and 
under  the  sheltering  roof.  This  has  been  my  case. 
While  blessed  with  my  little  one  I  wandered  from 
the  fold.  I  grieved  the  Good  Shepherd  much  by 
my  wanderings.  At  last  He  took  my  little  lamb 
to  His  bosom,  to  bring  me  back.  When  it  was 
going,  I  thought  how  ungrateful  I  had  been.  I  am 
now  left  desolate,  and  I  want  to  follow  ray  little 
Charlie  to  heaven.  I  can  almost  see  him  standing 

O 

at  the  windows  of  heaven  to  beckon  me  home. 
There,  he  smiles  as  he  used  to  do,  and  clasps  his 
little  hands  when  he  sees  me  coming.  Oh,  m^ 
little  Charlie  !  I  come  !  I  come  I " 


UFE-STRUGGLES.  107 


CHAPTER    XII. 

Arrival  in  Boston.  —  Spoke  for  Father  Taylor.  —  Spoke  for 
Phineas  Stowe.  —  Spoke  in  Trcmont  Temple  — A  Mother's 
Love.  —  Giving  up  Her  Child. — lion's  Herald. — Boston 
Bee.  —  Bad  Company.  —  Truancy.  —  Theft.  —  Prison.  — 
Breaking  a  Father's  Heart. 

THEN  came  to  Boston,  and  boarded  at 
Deacon  Bumhain's  sailor  boarding-house, 
North  End.  I  spoke  in  Father  Taylor's 
Church.  He  patted  me  on  the  shoulder, 
and  said  :  "  Good  !  you've  got  the  fire  in  you  !  " 

I  spoke  several  times  in  llev.  Phiueas  Stowe's 
Bethel,  and  lectured  once  on  temperance  in  the 
Tremont  Temple.  At  the  close  of  the  lecture  in 
the  Temple,  Deacon  Grant  came  to  me,  congratu- 
lated me,  gave  me  some  money,  and  asked  me  to 
call  at  his  house.  There  he  gave  me  many  valu- 
able books.  I  spoke  in  the  City  Hospital,  and  in 
the  institutions  at  South  Boston.  I  also  spoke  in 
thealmshouseatRoxbury.  MissDixhad  beenstir- 
riug  up  the  people  there  ;  many  being  of  opinion 
that  it  was  wrong  for  a  woman  to  interfere  with  such 
things,  others  that  it  was  right  for  a  woman  to  lift 
up  the  fallen.  She  had  also  made  a  stir  at  Newton. 
While  visiting  the  almshouse  at  South  Boston,  I 


108  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

saw  a  person  in  whom  was  exhibited  the  undying 
attachment  of  a  mother's  love.  She  was  a  young, 
beautiful,  and  accomplished  widow,  whose  hus- 
band had  died  in  California.  Being  poor,  all  his 
means  were  required  for  the  expenses  of  the  voy- 
age ;  he  had  nothing  to  leave  her,  but  a  good  name 
and  the  pledge  of  his  affection.  Fatigue,  expos- 
ure, and  the  malaria  of  a  hostile  climate  soon  laid 
him  in  the  grave  ;  and  she,  in  her  sickness,  hav- 
ing nothing  further  to  hope  from  him,  was  con- 
veyed to  the  almshouse.  Upon  the  return  of  her 
health,  which  renewed  the  bloom  of  her  cheek, 
and  the  inexpressible  loveliness  of  her  form  and 
temper,  it  was  intimated  to  her  that  if  she  could 
dispose  of  her  child,  by  allowing  some  person  who 
would  care  well  for  it  to  adopt  it,  she  inigh* 
advance  her  position.  She  at  first  refused  to  lis- 
ten to  the  idea ;  but  the  arguments  were  strong  in 
its  favor.  She  was  young,  beautiful,  and  peculi- 
arly attractive  ;  the  melancholy  which  sorrow  had 
pencilled  upon  her  features,  combined  with  her 
ardent  temperament  and  amiable  manners,  and  her 
unceasing  devotion  to  the  memory  of  her  husband, 
rendered  her  doubly  interesting.  She  could  start 
anew  in  life,  with  a  fairer  prospect  for  a  respect- 
able and  comfortable  station.  Besides,  she  had  no 
means  bjr  which  she  might  comfortably  support  or 
educate  her  child.  It  might  be  well  situated,  and 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  109 

liberally  educated,  by  leaving  her.  She  therefore 
at  length  reluctantly  allowed  her  child  to  be  placed 
among  others,  as  a  candidate  for  adoption.  The 
would-be  sponsors  arrived,  and,  as  fate  would  have 
it,  her  child  was  chosen.  The  mother  gazed  with 
a  jcalows  eye  upon  the  strangers,  as  they  passed 
back  and  forth  from  one  child  to  another,  and 
trembled  when  their  eyes  were  setting,  more  and 
more,  upon  the  beautiful  features  of  her  love.  A 
few  days  were  left  her  before  the  child  was  to  be 
taken,  and  these  days  were  the  shortest,  the  dear- 
est days  of  her  lifetime.  ,  She  counted  the  hours 
and  reckoned  the  moments  when  she  must  forever 
part  with  this  jewel  of  her  soul,  continually  gazing 
upon  its  features,  printing  her  burning  lip  upon  its 
cheek,  pressing  it  tenderly  to  her  bosom,  and 
weeping.  She  was  much  distressed  ;  and  as  the  lit- 
tle innocent,  startled  by  her  tears  and  sobbings, 
looked  up,  and  seemed  to  say,  "What  ails  you, 
mother?"  and  nestled  closer  to  her  bosom,  as  if 
prescient  of  coming  calamity,  she  loved  it  more 
and  more. 

At  length,  yet  all  too  soon,  the  appointed  hour 
arrived.  'The  young  mother  found  that  she  had 
not  overrated  the  extent  of  the  sacrifice  she  was 
making.  Oh,  holy  tie  I  best  boon  of  God  to  man, 
which  Death  but  loosens  to  clasp  more  strongly 
beyond  the  veil  1 


110  SHADOWY    HAND  ;    OE, 

Now  was  the  trying  moment  to  her  soul ;  but, 
lest  her  resolution  should  fail,  she  hurried  away  to 
prepare  the  child  for  the  journey. 

"Is  the  child  read}*?"  was  asked,  in  the  stern, 
coarse  voice  of  the  male  visitor. 

"  It  will  be  shortly,"  was  the  reply.  • 

That  gruff  inquiry  reached  the  ear  of  the  listen- 
ing mother,  and  stirred  up  the  well-springs  of  her 
heayt.  Ready  for  what?  To  bless  the  arms  of 
another,  —  to  call  «a  stranger  M  Mother,"  where  its 
palpitating  heart  could  uo  more  beat  by  her  side 
and  yield  sweetness  to  the  midnight  hour,  —  where 
that  mother  never  could  gaze  upon  its  angelic  fea- 
tures, —  where  her  very  name  and  being  must  be 
forgotten  ?  And  what  could  she  do  when  there  is 
uo  child  for  her  bosom?  There  remains  the 
cradle, — the  casket  without  the  jewel;  and  the 
toys,  — but  no  Julia  to  play  with  them.  Oh,  how 
desolate  must  be  those  arms,  that  watchful  couch, 
and  how  lone  those  almshouse  walls,  with  no  Julia  ! 
But  if  it  must  go,  she  would  dress  it  for  the  journey 
in  the  best  manner  possible.  All  her  treasures  in 
the  world  would  she  give,  —  not  because  the  child 
might  need  them,  but  because  they  were  a  mother's 
offering  to  a  mother's  idol.  She  had  a  few  articles 
of  faucy  dress  for  it,  which  were  the  relics  of  her 
early  fortune  and  her  husband's  love.  She  kissed 
the- child,  and  adorned  it,  and  held  it  before  the 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  Ill 

glass,  and  gazed  upon  its  lovely  eye  and  fascinating 
features  by  the  side  of  her  own.  She  gazed  and 
wept  over  the  last  lingering  look,  the  last  embrace, 
and  the  last  of  its  nestling  in  her  arms,  shedding 
a  flood  of  tears  upon  its  little  dimpled  cheek,  as 
if  she  could  never  come  to  the  last.  She  seemed 
to  have  no  soul,  or  sense,  or  feeling  of  her  own, 
but  all  was  poured  out  without  restraint,  generous 
as  the  floods  of  heaven,  upon  that  child.  That  her 
selfish  and  unfeeling  soul  might  become  generous, 
and  her  harsh  nature  tender,  she  had  long  prayed 
to  be  a  mother.  God  heard  her  prayers,  and  here 
was  the  invaluable  gift  of  Heaven  in  her  arms. 
She  had  never  known  the  tenderest  ties  of  nature 
until  now — had  never  measured  the  store-house 
of  its  hidden  treasures — had  never  fathomed  the 
ocean  of  its  deep  love — had  never  drank  from  its 
highest  fountain  —  till  when  first  she  gazed  upon 
her  breathing  infant ;  and  never  before  had  she  felt 
its  priceless  value  as  now. 

She  suddenly  clasps  it  to  her  arms,  and  wipes 
her  tears,  and  hastens  to  present  her  child  to  the 
arms  of  the  strangers ;  yes,  to  turn  off  the  child 
that  had  blest  so  many  a  weary  hour  to  her,  and 
made  the  night  sweeter  than  the  day,  and  poverty 
better  than  costly  treasures,  — the  child  that  God 
had  given  her,  as  a  jewel  more  precious  than 
rubies,  —the  child  with  which  God  had  blessed  her 


112  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

above  many  an  anxious  wife ;  — this  pearl  of 
purest  transparency  she  was  now  about  to  break 
from  its  parent  shell,  and  give  away  as  worthless. 
Ah!  that  thought  was  too  much  for  her;  and 
as  she  came  down  stairs,  and  the  cherub  innocent, 
r,s  if  afraid  of  falling,  or  of  coming  danger,  put 
its  little  tender  arms  so  sweetly  around  her  neck, 
and  darted  the  glance  of  its  eyes — those  gems, 
those  brilliants  —  so  deep  to  her  soul,  and  returned 
her  gentle  kiss  with  prattling  talk,  and  plainer  than 
she  had  ever  heard  it  before,  strove  to  lisp  the 
name  of  "mamma,"  her  courage  wavered.  And 
now,  as  the  strange  woman's  arms  were  extended; 
and  she  was  placing  it  in  her  lap,  the  child 
screamed  out,  and  raising  its  little  hands  towards 
its  mother,  cried,  "Mamma!  mamma!"  so  pit- 
eously,  that  she,  swift  as  thought,  clasped  it 
to  her  bosom,  hugged  it  frantically,  and,  with 
Dishevelled  hair,  and  almost  frantic  with  rage, 
cried,  "Gome  to  me,  my  Julia!  That  cruel 
stranger  shall  not  have  thee !  No !  you  shall 
not  be  taken  from  these  maternal  arms  ;  you  shall 
never  call  her  '  mother.'  God  has  not  blessed  her 
with  your  love,  she  is  not  worthy  of  it ;  yet  she 
would  rob  me,  because  of  my  poverty,  and  she 
would  teach  thee  to  love  and  bless' her ;  and  thou 
wouldst  call  her  'mother'  in  heaven.  No!  no  1 
cling  to  my  neck,  my  dearest  Julia ;  you  have 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  113 

but  one  mother,  and  she  is  thine  forever !  Let 
those  be  mothers  whom  God  makes  mothers, 
and  let  no  other  crave  so  glorious  a  gift ' 
Come,  then,  my  love,  my  jewel,  my  gem,  the 
fairest  pearl  of  ocean,  the  idol  of  my  heart,  the 
rapture  of  my  soul,  God's  last,  best  gift,  to 
a  widowed  wife!  No,  never!  never!  NEVER! 
will  I  part  with  thee,  so  long  as  these  lungs  can 
breathe  the  name  of  Julia." 

With  that  she  flew  away  tip  stairs,  with  her 
treasure  in  her  arms,  still  to  enjoy  the  ecstacy  of 
a  mother's  love. 

The  Zioris  Herald,  Boston,  reports  : 

"Mr.  Henry  Morgan,  who  has  recently  lectured 
on  temperance  in  our  city,  is  now  travelling 
through  the  interior  towns  t>n  his  beneficent 
mission.  Mr.  Morgan  is  a  Methodist;  there  is 
just  enough  enthusiasm  about  him  to  make  him 
heroic  in  his  cause.  He  has  struck  out  a  new 
path  of  usefulness  in  the  temperance  reform,  and 
will)  we  think,  pursue  it  with  good  results.  We 
commend  him  to  the  attention  of  our  Methodist 
brethren,  and  the  friends  of  temperance  gener- 
ally." 

I  continued  to  preach  and  lecture  on  temperance 
wherever  an  opportunity  occurred. 

The  Boston  Bee  says  : 

"  We  had  the  pleasure,  last  evening,  of  listening 


114  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

to  a  thrilling  and  beautiful  discourse  upon  the 
moral  and  physical  effects  of  intemperance  upon 
the  young  men  of  our  country,  by  Henry  Morgan, 
of  Connecticut  before  the  North  End  Total  Absti- 
nence Society.  Mr.  Morgan  is  a  stranger  in  our 
city,  and  must  therefore  be  heard  to  be  duly 
appreciated.  For  depth  of  argument,  beauty  of 
style,  and  words  of  burning  eloquence,  he  is  not 
surpassed.  We  hope  that  no  individual  will  fail 
to  hear  him." 

At  the  close  of  an  address  to  the  convicts  of  tho 
Keform  School,  a  boy  begged  of  the  superintend- 
ent the  privilege  of  conversing  with  me.  His 
name  was  Thomas  Walsh.  Said  he,  "  My  father 
and  mother  were  praying  parents,  and  did  all 
they  could  to  educate  me  in  the  ways  of  religion. 
They  lived  in  Canada ;  but  they  resolved  to  sell  out 
and  mo  veto  Boston,  that  I  might  have  the  advan- 
tages of  a  city  education.  As  I  entered  school,  I 
formed  aquaintances  with  a  number  of  truant  boys 
— always  cheerful,  lively,  full  of  fun,  having  plenty 
of  money,  and  excellent  companions.  I  soon, 
however,  found  where  they  got  their  money.  They 
stole  it  from  bakers'  wagons,  and  from  milk  carts, 
and  stole  keys  from  the  doors,  and  cut  pieces  of 
copper  from  the  water-spouts,  and  in  the  attic  of 
a  dilapidated  building  they  found  an  old  man  living 
who  would  give  them  a  few  cents  for  their  plunder. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  115 

I  soon  learned  to  be  a  truant  with  them,  and  also  to 
steal.  My  father  heard  of  my  truancy,  and  pun- 
ished me  ;  but  he  knew  not  the  depth  of  my  crime. 
This  only  exasperated  me,  and  for  two  long  weeks 
I  remained  away  from  home,  sleeping  anywhere  I 
could,  —  sometimes  in  the  stables,  and  sometimes 
in  old  casks  upon  the  wharf.  My  mother  spent 
most  of  this  time  in  walking  the  streets  to  find  me, 
and  employed  several  officers  for  that  purpose. 

"On  a  Sunday  morning,  alone  upon  Central 
Wharf,  I  thought  I  heard  footsteps  behind  me.  I 
dared  not  look  back,  I  was  so  guilty.  Nearer  they 
came.  It  was  my  mother  1  f  Oh,  Thomas  ! '  she 
said, '  how  could  you  serve  me  so  ? '  She  fell  upon 
my  neck,  and  wept.  *  Oh,  my  son,  you  will  break 
your  poor  father's  heart  I  Only  tell  him  that  you 
will  try  to  do  well,  and  he  will  certainly  forgive 
you  all.'  I  resolved  to  ^go  home.  I  met  my 
father,  with  his  venerable  locks  dishevelled  in  sor- 
row, and  his  eyes  and  Jiands  raised  towards  heaven, 
weeping  bitterly.  It  was  the  first  time  in  my  life 
that  I  saw  him  cry.  'Oh,  Thomas,'  said  he,  'my 
son,  my  son,  you  will  break  your  poor  old  father's 
heart!  Oh,  tell  me  that  you  will  now  attend 
school,  and  it  is  enough  1  I  will  question  you  no 
further.* 

"I  pledged  him  that  I  would  return,  and  vowed 
to  him  that  that  should  be  the  last  of  my  wander- 


116  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

ings.  But  as  I  entered  school,  I  found  that  I  loved 
sports  better  than  books,  and  soon  became  tired 
of  study,  and  joined  with  the  liveliest  again.  Oh, 
sir,  there  is  the  boy  [pointing  to  one  of  the  con- 
victs] that  led  me  away  the  second  time.  I  did 
not  know  him  then,  but  afterwards  learned  that  he 
had  been  several  times  in  jail.  I  was  late  one 
morning,  —  the  school  bell  had  rung.  I  met  that 
boy  and  his  truant  companions ;  we  took  a  sail, 
and  the  rest  need  not  be  told.  My  mother  came 
in  haste  one  morning  to  my  father,  and  said  to 
him, '  Thomas  is  again  in  the  hands  of  the  officer ; 
you  must  go  at  once  and  assist  him,  or  he  will  go 
to  prison.'  'No,'  said  the  old  man,  fl  shall  not 
go.  I  have  done  what  I  could  for  him.  I  cannot 
witness  the  sight.  You  may  go,  mother,  and  do 
what  you  can  for  him ;  but  I  feel  faint,  and  will 
lie  down  till  you  come  back.'  He  laid  down,  but 
he  never  rose  again.  His  last  breath  was  spent 
in  uttering  the  name  of  his  son. 

"  Yesterday,  my  mother  came  to  tell  me  of  my 
father's  death,  and  to  bid  me  farewell.  She  could 
not  stay  in  sight  of  this  prison  and  gaze  upon  its 
bolted  windows,  while  the  only  object  she  had  to 
live  for  was  immured  behind  its  walls.  She  was 
going  back  to  our  old  homestead,  on  the  banks  of 
the  St.  Lawrence,  and  there,  amid  the  flowers 
where  I  sported  with  the  school-boys  in  my  mno- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  117 

cence,  and  beneath  the  shade  where  I  learned 
my  Sabbath -school  lessons,  and  by  the  little  fruit- 
trees  she  planted  for  me,  —  there  she  has  gone, 
if  it  be  possible,  to  forget  her  grief.  'Oh,  Thomas,' 
said  she  to  me,  'as  we  part,  don't  forget  your 
prayers.  Forget  your  mother,  you  may,  and 
forget  your  poor  departed  father,  you  may ;  but 
oh,  do  not  forget  your  God  1  He  will  forgive 
you ;  and,  if  you  will  trust  Him,  will  restore  you 
to  liberty  and  honor  again  !  *  And  with  floods  of 
tears  and  sobbings,  as  if  her  heart  would  break, 
she  gazed  upon  me,  and  kissed  me,  and  embraced 
me,  and  clung  to  my  hands  as  if  she  could  never 
leave  me,  until  the  keeper  compelled  us  to  part. 
Then,  with  a  mother's  tenderness,  gazing  upon  me, 
perhaps,  for  the  last  tune,  she  looked  upon  me 
with  a  long,  anxious,  lingering  look,  and  strove  to 
say  farewell.  At  last  she  covered  her  face,  and 
left  me.  O  God,  warn  young  persons  against  bad 
company  1 " 


118  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

Children's  Campaign  for  Temperance.  — New  Bedford,  3,000 
pledged.  —  Sandwich,  1,150. — North  Bridgewater,  1,700. 
—  Worcester,  3,500.— Springfield,  2,500.— Hartford,  2,900. 
— Middletown,  1,000.  —  New  Haven,  4,000.  —  Newark,  New 
Jersey,  3,700.  —Total  in  One  Year— 19,450.  —  Good  Con- 
science my  only  Reward. 

i  Y  path  of  duty  next  called  me  to  New 
Bedford,  where  I  commenced  my  mis- 
sionary work.  Before  leaving  for  Barn- 
stable,  I  delivered  a  farewell  address  in 
Liberty  Hall.  More  than  3,000  signatures, 
pledged  to  total  abstinence,  rewarded  my  labors. 
I  felt  that  the  efforts  of  several  weeks  had  not 
been  wasted. 

The  New  Bedford  Standard  reported  as 
follows : 

"  Mr.  Henry  Morgan  has  toiled  without  fee  or 
reward,  except  that  satisfaction  which  the  benev- 
olent man  experiences  in  his  efforts  to  do  good. 
We  have  had  some  opportunity  of  observing 
him  while  here  ;•  we  have  seen  the  testimonials 
which  he  has  received  from  our  brethren  of  the 
press,  and  from  officers  of  public  charitable 
institutions  in  various  parts  of  the  North.  Our 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  119 

firm  persuasion  respecting  him  is  that  he  is  a  good 
man,  giving  himself,  with  exemplary  and  unusual 
devotion,  to  a  good  work.  He  neither  asks  pay- 
ment for  his  services  or  expenses,  nor  requests  to 
have  contributions  for  his  support.  He  withholds 
himself  not  from  the  humblest,  and  what  would 
be,  to  a  man  of  less  benevolence  and  love  for  his 
race,  the  most  repulsive  labor,  in  behalf  of  the 
forlorn  victims  of  misfortune  or  of  vice.  The 
prison,  the  almshouse,  the  subterranean,  damp,  and 
unwholesome  dwelling,  —  these  have  no  cause  for 
aversion  sufficient  to  hinder  him  from  entering 
to  do  his  good  work. 

"The  parent  and  the  child,  the  old  and  the 
young,  the  white  and  the  black,  all  share  his 
benevolent  attentions  and  sympathy.  We  believe 
really  that  he  is  as  truly  disinterested  as  any 
man  to  be  found ;  without  the  ample  fortune  of 
a  Howard  to  fall  back  upon,  he  labors  with  all 
the  zeal,  and  bears  himself  with  all  the  humility, 
of  the  English  philanthropist. 

"He  is  an  eloquent  lecturer,  has  been  very 
successful  in  his  good  work,  and  we  cordially  com- 
mend him  to  any  community  which  he  may  visit. 
He  has  obtained  three  thousand  signatures  to  the 
pledge,  —  one  thousand  of  which  are  from  the 
schools,  and  more  than  one  thousand  are  scattering 
names  which  have  never  been  signed  before. 


120  SHADOWY  HAND;  on, 

They  are  to  remain  sealed,  for  ten  years,  among 
the  city  records.  They  have  been  obtained  by 
school  children,  encouraged  by  parents  to  go 
from  house  to  house.  Their  simple  eloquence  has 
reached  a  class  of  persons  unmet  by  any  other 
temperance  lecturers ;  indifferent  parents,  and 
wine-drinking  friends,  have  become  interested, 
and  have  put  their  names  to  the  pledge.  All 
classes  of  society  have  heard  from  youthful  boys, 
w  Have  you  signed  the  pledge  ?  " 

Having  completed  my  work  there,  I  went  on  to 
Sandwich,  where,  with  child-help,  I  obtained 
1,150  signatures,  to  be  seated  up,  as  usual,  for 
ten  years.  Their  names  were  duly  reported  in  the 
Obsemer  of  May  17th,  1851. 

I  commenced  the  good  work  at  North  Bridge- 
water,  feeling  much  encouraged.  Here  I  obtained 
more  than  1,700  signatures, —  a  great  success,  con- 
sidering the  number  of  the  population.  I  attrib- 
uted this  to  the  co-operation  of  the  clergy,  who 
accompanied  me  to  the  respective  schools,  and  thus 
incited  the  assistance  of  the  several  teachers.  I 
then  lectured  ten  times  in  Worcester,  —  seven  lec- 
tures being  in  the  City  Hall.  By  means  of  the  school 
children,  I  obtained  3,500  signatures  to  the  tem- 
perance pledge,  which  were  to  remain  sealed ;  of 
these,  900  were  obtained  in  the  border  districts  of 
the  city,  600  from  the  public  schools  of  the  city, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  121 

and  GOO  young  men  and  boys  signed  the  anti- 
tobacco  pledge. 

Many  parents,  heretofore  indifferent,  by  seeing 
their  children  so  delighted  in  doing  good,  put 
their  names  for  the  first  time  to  the  pledge,  wit- 
nessed by  the  whole  household.  At  an  appointed 
hour  all  the  public  schools  of  the  city  were  fur- 
nished with  temperance  pledges.  Immediately 
the  boys,  and  especially  the  young  ladies  of  the 
schools,  with  flying  pledges  in  hand,  called  at  every 
store,  office,  and  dwelling  in  the  city,  and  popped 
the  question  to  the  young  men.  All  were  honored 
with  a  visit  from  these  fair  ones  ;  and  the  green 
hills  around  the  city,  glistening  with  the  dews  of 
morning,  appeared  more  lovely  with  these  happy 
faces  gliding  over  them  for  names.  Some  went 
four  and  five  miles  on  foot,  and  alone.  Roman 
Catholics  vied  with  Protestants  in  adding  names 
to  the  list,  and  general  enthusiasm  was  the  order 
of  the  day." 

The  Worcester  Cataract  thus  reports  : 
"  Mr.  Henry  Morgan,  from  Connecticut,  who  has 
been  very  faithfully  and  successfully  laboring  for 
some  weeks  past  in  the  cause  of  temperance, 
closed  his  lectures  at  tke  City  Hall  on  Sunday 
evening,  and  has  deposited,  we  understand,  among 
the  archives  of  the  city,  that  sealed  book  bearing 
3,500  names  of  those  fathers  and  mothers,  sons 


122  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK; 

and  daughters,  who  signed  the  pledge,  which  is  to 
remain  there  unopened  for  the  next  ten  years. 
As  Mr.  Morgan  aslss  no  compensation  for.  his 
labors,  some  are  at  a  loss  to  know  how  he  can  thus 
gratuitously  devote  time  and  talents  to  the  cause 
without  living  on  air,  chameleon-like,  or,  Midas- 
like,  changing  everything  into  gold.  How  can 
Mr.  Morgan  render  services  so  laborious  and  val- 
uable without  remuneration?  The  community 
needs  scores  of  such  lecturers.  We  hold,  then, 
that  Mr.  Morgan  is  a  magnificent  benefactor  to  the 
city.  He  has  done  more  than  to  govern  it  for  a 
year,  or  to  bequeath  it  a  legacy ;  more  than  to  drop 
a  load  of  wood  or  a  barrel  of  flour  at  each  door." 
The  Springfield  Republican  remarks  : 
"Mr.  Morgan,  for  the  past  two  weeks,  has  been 
laboring  among  us  with  much  zeal  and  efficiency 
in  lecturing  upon  temperance,  and  procuring  sig- 
natures, principally  among  children,  to  the  total 
abstinence  pledge.  Mr.  Morgan  belongs  to  that 
class  of  reformers  led  on  by  pure  love  for  the  wel- 
fare of  others.  He  closed  his  course  of  temper- 
ance lectures  in  Springfield  on  Sunday  evening,  in 
Kev.  Dr.  Osgood's  church.  He  has  obtained 
2,500  signatures  to  the  pledge,  800  of  which  are 
children's.  Most  of  them  have  also  signed  the 
anti-tobacco  pledge.  There  has  been  a  temper- 
ance society  formed  in  the  High  School,  with  the 


LIFE-STRUGGLES .  123 

Principal  as  President.  The  ladies  of  the  same 
school  have  obtained  many  names  to  the  Young 
Ladies'  Temperance  Society.  The  children  of 
Court  Square  Grammar-school  have  obtained  800 
signatures  to  the  pledge,  and  all  except  one  in 
that  school  signed  it." 

The  Hartford  Times  says : 

."Mr.  Morgan,  by  means  of  the  children  of  the 
public  schools,  has  obtained  2,900  signatures  to 
the  temperance  pledge.  Many  parents,  by  the 
entreaties  of  their  children,  and  to  encourage 
them  in  their  missionary  work,  have  decided  to 
forego  the  gratification  of  an  occasional  glass,  and 
whole  families  have  written  their  names  side  by 
side,  to  be  opened  in  1861.  Nearly  1,000  per- 
sons have  recorded  their  names,  who  have  never 
signed  the  pledge  before  ;  and  many  young  men 
and  boys  have  also  signed  the  anti-tobacco  pledge. 
There  has  been  quite  a  strife  to  get  the  largest 
number  of  Reverends,  Doctors,  and  Deacons  on 
their  pledges."  . 

A  Middletown  paper  remarks  : 

"During  the  past  week  there  has  been  quite 
an  interest  awakened  among  the  public  schools 
of  Middletown,  by  the  lectures  of  Mr.  Morgan, 
especially  in  the  High  Schools.  The  scholars 
have  not  only  given  their  signatures  to  the  pledge, 
but  have  gone  as  missionaries  from  door  to  door, 


124  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

to  obtain  the  names  of  their  friends  and  relatives, 
to  seal  them  together  in  a  book  for  ten  years  in 
the  City  Records ,  a  thousand  signatures  having 
been  obtained.  The  son  looks  ahead  for  ten 
years,  which  are  to  be  the  all-important  ones  of  his 
life.  If,  during  this  time,  he  remains  pledged  from 
the  first  glass,  he  is  comparatively  out  of  danger. 
On  the  first  page  of  the  book  to  be  sealed,  are 
seen  the  names  of  the  teachers  of  this  school,  all 
pledged  to  temperance.  On  another  page  we  see 
the  name  of  the  Mayor,  with  his  family,  and  many 
of  those  in  his  employ,  headed  by  the  name  of 
his  son." 

The  New  Haven  Courier  says  : 

"Mr.  Morgan  has  just  completed  a  fortnight's 
labors  in  this  city,  in  behalf  of  the  cause  of 
temperance,  with  more  than  usual  success,  having 
obtained  over  4,000  signatures  to  the  temperance 
pledge.  It  has  not  been  his  design  so  much  to 
reform  the  inebriate,  as  to  forewarn  the  young, 
and  to  awaken  an  interest  in  the  parents.  A 
number  of  intemperate  persons,  however,  have 
signed,  and  several  liquor  dealers  have  pledged 
themselves  to  buy,  sell,  and  use  no  more.  800 
men  and  boys  have  signed  the  anti-tobacco  pledge. 

"  The  youth  of  New  Haven  seemed  prepared 
for  such  a  work,  as  they  have  been  disciplined 
in  Sabbath-schools,  and  in  the  Cold  Water  Army ; 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  125 

so  that  in  the  present  campaign  the  Light  Infantry 
did  execution  like  old  veterans.  The  private 
schools  of  Mr.  Smith,  Mr.  Beckwith,  and  several 
in  Fair  Haven,  have  been  unusually  active  in  the 
cause,  and  almost  every  pupil  signed  the  pledge. 
More  than  1,200  signatures  were  presented  by 
the  Lancasterian  School." 

The  Newark  Daily  Mercury  observes : 
"  Mr.  Henry  Morgan,  of  Connecticut,  has  deliv- 
ered thirteen  lectures  in  Newark,  and  addressed  the 
public  and  Sabbath-schools.  By  means  of  the 
school  children,  he  has  obtained  3,700  signatures 
to  the  pledge.  One-half  of  the  signatures  are 
from  children  and  young  persons,  and  nearly  one 
thousand  from  the  schools.  Heads  of  families, 
by  scores  and  hundreds,  have  started  the  list  with 
their  own  patriarchal  names.  He  has  been  very 
kindly  received  by  our  good  citizens,  and  also 
shown  great  courtesy  by  the  clergy  and  press. 
Mr.  Morgan  has  obtained,  during  the  year,  19,450 
signatures  to  the  pledge." 

Thus  ended  my  Children's  Temperance  Cam- 
paign. The  good  people  of  Newark  were  the 
most  generous  of  any  I  had  met  with.  They 
would  not  allow  me  to  defray  my  expenses,  even 
of  board,  advertising,  or  of  hall-rents ;  all  were 
free.  But  mission  labors,  however  beneficial  to 
the  public,  do  not  tend  to  popular  favor. 


126  SHADOWY  HAND:  on, 

Twenty  years  after,  when  I  became  somewhat 
noted  as  a  lecturer,  I  never  received  a  call  from 
those  cities  where  I  had  done  the  most  good,  but 
was  rather  repelled.  The  reward  of  well-doing 
must  be  in  the  approval  of  a  good  conscience. 
In  Boston,  however,  I  was  placed  on  the  top  wave 
of  popular  favor,  by  philanthropic  labors  alone. 
When  Boston  took  me  up,  and  gave  me  the  lar- 
gest audiences  of  any  city,  I  was  unsuited  for  the 
position,  as  my  style  was  denunciatory  and  severe. 
But  their  kindness  chastened  my  asperities,  and 
warmed  me  into  wider  sympathies.  Now  the  lar- 
gest and  most  popular  hall  of  the  country  is 
always  crowded  when  I  lecture,  with  an  audience 
glad  to  pay  for  admission. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  127 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Lecture  before  Paintings.  —  Sketches  of  Virginia.  —  Peaks 
of  Otter. —  Geological  Deposits. —  Sunrise  and  Moonlight.— 
Equestrian  Ascent. — Primeval  Forests. — Climate. —  Storm. 
—  Mountain  Billows.  —  Convulsion  of  the  Elements.  — 
Negro  Astonishment  at  Locomotives. 

HELE  lecturing  at  Newark,  N.  J.,  I  was 
offered  a  handsome  sum  to  speak  before 
a  collection  of  paintings  of  Bible  scenes 
then  on  exhibition  in  that  city.  I  was 
allowed  to  visit  prisons  at  the  same  time,  and  had 
all  my  Sabbaths  to  myself. 

I  visited  the  Southern  States,  inspected  the  sep- 
ulchres of  the  heroes  of  the  Republic,  and  wrote 
"  Sketches  of  Virginia."  "While  lecturing  before 
the  paintings  in  Washington,  among  my  audience 
in  Odd  Fellows'  Halt  were  President  Filmore,  and 
Edward  Everett,  Secretary  of  State.  I  visited 
Richmond,  Lynchburg,  and  the  Peaks  of  Otter. 
Perhaps,  to  me,  no  American  scenery  was  more 
interesting  than  the  Peaks  of  Otter.  Landscape 
has  its  beauty ;  Niagara  its  grandeur ;  Ocean  its 
immensity ;  but  here  these  seem  to  me  to  be  com- 
bined in  sublimity.  Eastern  Virginia  soon  wea- 
ries the  eye  with  the  sameness  of  its  scenery,  but 


128  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

here  Nature  has  garnered  her  choicest  stores  of 
beauty  to  astonish  the  visitor  with  magnificent 
scenes.  No  description  —  nought  but  the  eye  of 
the  beholder  —  can  appreciate  their  transcendent 
merits.  Situated  in  Bedford  County,  not  far  from 
Lyuchburg,  and  about  two  hundred  and  thirty 
miles  from  the  capitol,  they  are  about  fourteen 
miles  from  the  Natural  Bridge. 

Since  the  wild  savage,  from  these  heights,  has 
ceased  to  sound  the  war-whoop  for  his  chiefs,  com- 
paratively few  persons  had  visited  them  until  the 
past  few  years.  Indeed,  for  want  of  roads,  they 
had  been  almost  inaccessible ;  none  but  the  more 
adventurous  would  attempt  their  ascent ;  yet  Kan- 
dolph,  Jefferson,  and  Patrick  Henry  found  the 
pleasure  in  gazing  upon  their  respective  planta- 
tions in  the  interminable  plains  below,  to  exceed 
the  fatigue  and  exposure  of  the  journey.  When 
the  rising  sun  burst  its  sea  of  glory  upon  the  keen 
eye  of  John  Randolph,  and  lighted  up  the  moun- 
tain with  burnished  gold,  he  pointed  his  long,  bony 
finger  ("that  javelin  of  rhetoric")  towards  the 
east,  and  exclaimed  to  his  companions  :  "  Here  let 
the  infidel  be  convinced  of  a  Deity  " 

But  now  that  the  facilities  of  travel  have  been 
increased  they  have  become  popular,  and  during 
the  warm  season  are  extensively  visited.  Assist- 
ance, food,  and  shelter  are  at  command,  and  the 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  129 

gaze  is  caught  by  the  isolated  shaft  that  towers 
above  the  clouds,  in  lone  grandeur,  from  the 
broad  plain  four  thousand  feet  below,  inviting  the 
lightning  and  the  thunders  with  a  daring  that 
defies  expression ;  and  oh  the  very  summit,  vast 
piles  of  toppling,  bleak,  gray  granite,  in  high, 
irregular,  wild  sublimity,  breastiner  the  storm,  pre- 
sent the  climax  of  all  that  humanity  can  experi- 
ence. 

From  this  mountain  the  stone  for  the  Washing- 
ton Monument  was  taken;  it  was  prepared  and 
finished  at  Lynchburg,  and  transported  to  Wash- 
ington. On  it  is  inscribed : 

"  From  Otter's  summit  — 
Virginia's  loftiest  peak  — 
To  crown  a  monument 
To  Virginia's  noblest  son." 

The  towering  pile  looks  on  Mount  Vernon  now. 

About  thirty  years  since  an  egg-shaped  rock, 
twenty-five  or  thirty  feet  high,  stood  on  this 
mount,  with  the  small  point  toppling  over  the 
vast  abyss,  so  exactly  poised  that  one  hand  would 
move  it.  Nothing  in  nature  could  be  more 
sublime,  and  no  point  of  elevation  more  exciting 
for  youth.  Since  the  name  of  Washington  has 
been  found  engraved  on  many  interesting  rocks 
of  the  country,  it  is  common  to  find  mountain 
9 


130  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

heights  covered  with  names.  Upon  these  crags 
names  from  all  parts  of  the  world  are  found 
engraved  upon  the  precipitous  brink,  vieing  with 
each  other  for  immortality.  Upon  the  most 
distant  point  of  the  high  rock  spoken  of,  an 
ambitious  youth  once  ventured  to  mark  his  name, 
and  another  climbed  out  upon  the  point  with  a 
silver-headed  cane,  and,  laying  it  upon  the  utmost 
verge,  placed  a  stone  upon  it,  — a  temptation  for 
some  adventurous  youth  to  climb  and  break  his 
neck.  The  cane  was  taken  down  shortly  after, 
with  difficulty  and  hazard,  but  without  accident. 

Then  I  proceeded  to  the  Springs,  leaving  the 
cars  near  Lynchburg,  and  ten  or  twelve  miles 
from  the  Peaks.  Here  we  find  stages,  carnages, 
buggies,  and  riding-horses,  to  suit  every  person's 
taste  for  travel.  Those  desiring  to  continue  from 
the  Peaks  to  the  Springs,  generally  prefer  public 
conveyance,  but  the  parties  visiting  only  the 
mountains  choose  the  more  social  and  chivalrous 
pleasure  of  horsemanship.  Tremendous  is  the 
excitement!  The  wild,  prancing  steed  catches 
the  wilder  spirit  of  his  rider,  and  paws  for  the 
race.  Now  the  mighty  forest  echoes  with  the 
multitudinous  bound  of  iron  hoofs.  Vociferous 
shouts  of  laughter  drive  the  partridge  and  the 
pheasant  from  their  old  possessions,  and  the 
sylvan  songsterflies  with  notes  half  spent  in  air,  and 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  131 

half  down  his  throat,  frightened  to  death.  Dogs 
from  the  distant  cabins  rouse  from  their  slumbers, 
run  over  fences  and  hedges  to  join  the  chase,  and 
yelp  in  the  tangled  briar  with  mad  despair.  On, 
on,  rush  the  fiery  coursers,  with  the  speed  of 
thought.  The  mountain  heaves  in  sight,  but  only 
to  cheat  the  senses,  for  perspective  hath  lost  its 
rules  of  distance.  It  seems  within  a  short  walk 
to  the  mountain-top ;  it  really  is  ten  miles.  The 
fact  is,  the  mountain  being  exceedingly  grand 
beyond  our  common  experience,  we  cannot  judge 
of  its  distance ;  but  the  delightful  road,  amidst 
towering  forests  and  beautiful  plantations,  com- 
pensates for  the  length  of  the  journey. 

But  now  come  the  ladies.  Ah,  what  are  the 
pleasures  of  nature's  scenery  without  the  society  of 
woman?  What  our  conceptions  of  pleasing,  the 
lovely,  the  beautiful  ?  Beneath  her  gentle  footsteps 
flowers  spring  in  our  path ;  at  her  radiant  smiles 
the  wild  rose  develops  its  choicest  tints,  and  sheds 
its  selected  odors  ;  at  the  sound  of  her  voice  Nature 
strings  her  silver  harp  sweetly  as  sounds  the  dul- 
cimer ;  the  bands  of  the  Pleiades  are  forged  by  the 
glance  of  her  eye ;  and  at  the  low,  gentle  sigh 
from  her  bosom,  who  does  not  feel  the  heart 
quake  ? 

What  forest-trees !  Here  stand  the  oaks  of 
centuries  hi  sublime  majesty,  reminding  us  of  the 


132  SHADOWY  HAND;  on, 

forests  of  Oregon,  and  here,  in  the  cultivated  lield, 
they  stand  withered,  girdled,  and  dead  ;  their  tall, 
gray  branches,  towering  to  the  skies,  inviting  the 
lightning  and  the  storm,  still  set  fate  at  defiance, 
like  Bonaparte  in  exile.  Here,  in  the  thicket, 
they  have  fallen  by  age,  and  by  their  own  weight, 
giving  way  for  their  successors,  like  the  generations 
of  men.  Now  the  "  big  spring  "  pours  its  warbling 
tide  over  our  path.  Never  was  water  more  refresh- 
ing,—  cold  as  the  ice  of  winter,  pure  as  the  fount 
of  Castalia,  and  sweet  as  the  nectar  of  Jupiter. 
Weary  and  exhausted  by  the  tedious  ride,  we 
wipe  the  sweat  from  our  brow,  and  gaze  with  rap- 
ture upon  the  glittering  tide.  With  scooping 
palm  we  drink,  and  lave  the  brow ;  exhausted 
Nature  rallies,  new  life  and  vigor  throbs  through 
every  vein,  and  with  adventurous  spirit  we  aspire 
for  the  peak. 

Now  we  climb  the  topmost  crags.  What  trem- 
bling, shrinking,  misgiving,  as  a  world  appears 
below  !  An  experienced  one  climbing  the  ladder, 
and  clinging  desperately  to  the  rock,  exclaims  : 
"Is  it  safe?  Won't  the  mountain  fall?"  The  clouds 
are  beneath  our  feet,  and  anon  they  rise  and  crown 
our  brow,  and  our  fingers  sport  with  their  golden 
borders.  Now  they  are  gone,  casting  their  black 
shadows  over  ten  thousand  acres  a  mile  beneath 
your  feet,  and  hurrying  away  as  if  impelled  by 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  133 

your  command.  The  largest  trees  diminish  to  the 
smallest  shrubs.  We  stand  upon  the  cold,  rugged 
granite,  unchanging  and  unchangeable  as  eternity, 
and  severe  as  the  justice  of  Jehovah. 

New  London,  the  beautiful  villages  of  Liberty, 
Fiucastle,  and  Amsterdam,  the  Blue  Ridge  and 
the  Alleghauies,  extend  before  the  eye,  and  afford 
a  charming  expanse. 

Here  we  behold  immensity  !  He  who  has  strug- 
gled with  the  storm,  and  felt  his  laboring  bark, 
league  by  league,  ascend  the  wave,  until,  arriving 
at  the  crested  top,  he  gazes  upon  a  hundred  sails 
beneath,  some  skirting  the  wave  in  full  view,  some 
dipping  half  hid  beneath  the  surge,  and  anon 
exploring  the  engulfing  trough,  their  banners  seen 
outpeering  overhanging  billows  extending  miles 
above,  can  fully  appreciate  the  sublimity  of  these 
interminable  mountain  billows  !  As  the  weather- 
beaten  seaman  stands  upon  these  heights,  they 
seem  to  roll  in  boiling  waves  beneath  his  feet.  He 
gazes  upon  the  clouds  beneath,  sees  the  image  of 
Hope  beckoning  him  on,  and  instantly  thrusts  forth 
the  hand  to  grasp  the  halliards,  to  mount  the  yard- 
arm,  and  seize  the  helm,  and  bring  his  vessel  to 
her  course,  as  flashes  his  keen  eye  that  has  faced 
the  thunderbolts,  and  throbs  his  heart  with  the 
passion  and  excitement  of  his  youth  I  How  he 
gazes  1  How  his  spirit  bounds  once  more  for  the 


134  SHADOWY  HAND;   OR, 

excitement  of  the  sea !  And  imagining  these  to 
be  the  transfixed  billows  of  ocean  is  no  fiction. 

No  mountains  or  valleys  in  the  Union  present 
more  marine  deposits  of  shells  and  marl,  and  fos- 
sil remains  of  greater  number  and  variety,  and  no 
physical  features  bear  stronger  impress  of  marine 
convulsions.  Mountains  from  the  depths  of  the 
sea,  parting  the  briny  waters,  with  all  their  shell 
and  submarine  remains  upheaving,  have  towered 
to  these  very  skies  with  glittering  crowns  of  pearl, 
while  the  gathered  waters,  frightened  at  confine- 
ment, ploughing  enormous  chasms,  have  broken 
through  the  mountain  barrier,  bearing  down  every 
obstacle,  and,  through  wide,  deep  channels,  have 
hurried  to  the  freedom  of  their  native  profound. 

But  the  much-desired  sight  is  a  fine  sunrise.  I 
was  aroused  at  half-past  three,  and  proceeded  at 
once  to  ascend  the  heights,  not  without  a  shudder 
lest  the  old  logs  should  harbor  a  panther  or  rattle- 
snake. The  dying  notes  of  the  whip-poor-will 
filled  the  air  with  solemn  melody.  Right  above 
the  Peaks  the  clouds  parted,  and  at  once  the  tow- 
ering heights  appeared  in  bold  relief.  Natural 
scenery,  especially  in  the  early  morning,  has  a 
marked  devotional  tendency. 

A  small  mountain  lies  upon  the  horizon,  as  if 
shielding  the  sun  until  its  proper  time  to  rise  with 
the  greatest  effect,  and  a  small  black  cloud  float- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  135 

ing  before.  A  more  beautiful  impression  cannot 
be  conceived.  The  cloud  nearly  hides  the  ring  of 
the  sun,  circling  the  mountain  until  the  sun  is  so 
far  risen  that  all  its  treasured  beams  at  once  burst 
with  an  electric  thrill  upon  the  enraptured  sight, 
and  astonishes  Glory  itself.  Behold  a  sea  of  burn- 
ished gold  !  a  contrast  and  union  of  ten  thousand 
hues  !  a  hundred  miles  of  landscape,  crowned  with 
emerald,  sapphire,  and  rubies  !  the  mountain  crags 
at  your  side  a  pile  of  refulgent  diamonds  I 

I  might  visit  the  same  place,  when  the  sun  is  in 
the  same  latitude,  a  thousand  times,  and  fail  to  meet 
with  the  concurrence  of  circumstances,  the  pecu- 
liar clouds,  the  temperature  of  the  atmosphere,  the 
nature  of  the  eastern  sky,  and  the  aspect  of  the 
horizon  which  overwhelmed  me.  He  who  has  not 
paid  his  morning  devotions  upon  these  high  altars, 
has  not  felt  man's  divinest  nature.  Far  from  the 
distracting  cares  of  the  habitations  of  men,  here 
is  Nature  in  her  purity,  speaking  her  own  lan- 
guage. How  delightful  to  stand  and  converse 
with  her  on  these  mountain  peaks,  to  breathe  the 
atmosphere  of  these  higher  regions,  and  gaze 
upon  the  depths  below,  —  to  make  companionship 
with  sky,  with  clouds,  and  mountains,  which 
become  our  brothers,  sisters,  friends  !  We  seem 
a  part  of  them,  —  our  existence  becomes  enlarged  ; 
the  chain  of  desjres  that  bmds  us  to  earth,  link  by 


136  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

link,  is  broken,  and  our  conscious  spirit  aspires  to 
be  free.  Such  are  the  feelings  impressed  by  these 
scenes.  If  there  is  a  place  on  this  lower  world 
where  spirits  dwell,  that  place  is  here.  Celestial 
voices  answer  each  other's  notes  from  crag  to  crag 
with  soft,  low,  dulcet  strains  borne  upon  the  gentle 
breeze,  which  take  full  possession  of  the  soul. 
Nature  has  never  sinned ;  remaining  in  her  pris- 
tine purity,  with  floral  cheek,  and  breath  all 
incense,  here  she  smiles  with  sweetest  expression, 
and  wooes  us  to  her  embrace.  He  who  loves 
Nature  loves  God. 

Moonlight.  —  Sweet  is  the  converse  of  Nature 
upon  the  mountain-top  in  the  silent  watches  of  the 
night.  The  earth,  the  air,  the  heavens,  how  still ! 
A  holy  feeling  pervades  the  place  ;  the  rock,  the 
clouds,  and  the  stars  all  seem  a  part  of  ourselves, 
—  each  a  link  in  Nature's  chain  to  bind  us  to  the 
Deity.  A  moonlight  view  from  the  Peaks  of 
Otter,  as  a  field  for  fancy  or  imagination,  surpasses 
our  highest  anticipations.  So  brightly  gleam  the 
stars,  the  clouds  pass  by  as  sentinels  over  a  slum- 
bering world ;  the  comets,  falling  stars,  heaven's 
telegraphic  messengers,  bearing  despatches  for  weal 
or  woe,  and  the  silver  moon  —  Queen  of  Night  — 
walks  in  silent  majesty  among  the  beacon-lights  c 
heaven,  gazing  upon  a  slumbering  universe,  light 
ing  up  the  mountains  and  hills  below,  just  enough 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  137 

to  make  their  shadowy  features  visible,  —  all  pre- 
sent a  boundless  field  for  the  wildest  flights  of 
imagination.  Well  might  John  Randolph,  "Na- 
ture's acting  poet,"  delight  to  spend  the  night  in 
contemplating  scenes  like  these. 

I  found  the  climate  of  Virginia  very  changeable  : 
a  storm  is  coming  on.  The  forest  roars,  bea"sts 
howl,  the  raven  flies  in  terror;  the  sturdy  shrub, 
deep-rooted  on  the  mountain  brow,  is  uptorn 
and  hurled  headlong,  and  stern,  stately  oaks, 
whose  tall  branches  have  defied  the  storms  of 
centuries,  now  break  and  fall  like  pipe-stems ! 
The  Fiend  of  Storm  seems  enraged  that  a  mortal 
dare  approach  his  seat.  Lightning  leaps  from 
cloud  to  cloud,  marshalling  up  his  hosts  of 
artillery  with  icy  shots  of  death  I  Mad  thunder, 
from  his  ebon  chariot,  with  sulphureous  breath 
and  fiery  eye,  strikes  upon  his  granite  throne 
with  horrid  shock,  as  if  a  huge  mount  of  adamant 
from  heaven  had  crushed  the  flinty  brow  of  earth  ; 
and  tenfold  more  dreadful  pours  the  rain  and 
hail.  .  Now  a  calm ;  —  and  what  a  calm  !  Perfect 
silence  reigns ;  blue  peaks  burst  through  their 
misty  shrouds,  and  in  dewy  tear-drop  smile 
beneath  the  sunbeams,  sweetly  as  a  sister's  face 
lit  up  with  rays  of  hope.  All  below  is  a  dark, 
unfathomable  abyss ;  but  above  and  around  our 
brow  the  transparent  vapors  glitter  with  refulgent 


138  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

hues ;  a  resplendent  rainbow  extends  i*s  broad 
arch  from  peak  to  peak,  forming  an  intermediate 
vault  between  heaven  and  earth,  for  the  abode  of 
angels. 

The  high-soaring  eagle,  with  his  eye  on  the 
sun,  darts  above  the  mists,  now  tipping  his 
spacious  wing  in  the  crystal  drops  of  the  iris, 
now  sailing  far  beyond  the  clouds,  to  adjust  his 
plumes  in  the  pure  radiance  of  heaven.  As 
swells  the  gentle  breeze,  Nature  strikes  her  sylvan 
lyre  from  pine  and  fir  in  JEolian  symphony,  and 
merry  songsters  redouble  their  notes  with  rap- 
turous delight.  So  pure,  so  peaceful  the  heavens 
and  earth,  so  exhilarating  the  air,  so  melodious 
the  warblers,  and  so  redolent  the  flowers,  one 
imagines  earth  without  a  sigh,  without  a  tomb  ! 

Pedestrian  excursions  afford  many  interesting 
adventures.  The  country  people  are  most  hos- 
pitable, and  always  glad  to  see  a  stranger,  and 
their  simple  piety  contrasts  favorably  with  the 
social  condition  of  large  cities. 

Curious  anecdotes  are  related  of  the  introduction 
of  railroads,  and  the  interest  they  excited.  At 
Lynchburg,  a  mountaineer  saw,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  eventful  mountain  life,  the  puffing,  smoking, 
black  Ingine!  It  was  not  a  savage, — yet  how 
much  like  one  !  His  hand  unconsciously  started 
for  a  knife  or  gun.  As  it  passed,  he  was  told 


LLFE-STRUGGLES.  139 

he  could  overtake  it;  and  Jonathan,  seeing  it 
retreat,  started  in  chase;  but  as  the  monster 
entered  the  big  black  tunnel,  he  ran  as  fast  the 
other  way !  The  by-standers  told  him  he-  had 
not  caught  the  bear  this  time.  "No,"  said  he, 
"but  I  have  run  him  in  his  hole!" 

A  negro  seeing  the  swift-coming,  snorting,  black 
engine,  ran  to  get  behind  his  master,  and  rolling 
the  white  of  his  eye  with  terrific  horror,  he 
seemed  to  shrink  to  half  size ;  but  when  the 
monster  had  passed,  he  commenced  laughing  and 
leaping  with  the  wildest  paroxysms  of  joy. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  cried  the  master. 

"  Oh,  massa  !  I  be  so  glad  dat  de  devil  will  git 
no  more  among  de  niggers  I  " 

"Why  not?  What  do  you  mean?"  said  the 
master,  as  if  somewhat  astonished. 

"  Oh,  massa  I  didn't  you  see  um  ar  Lynchbugs 
hob  got  him  in  de  harness?" 


140  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 


CHAPTER    XV. 

Grave  of  Patrick  Henry. — His  Eloquence.  —  Speech  on  the 
Johnny  Hook  Case.  —  "Beef!  beef!"  —  John  Randolph, 
of  Roanoke. — Rivalry  of  Henry  and  Randolph.  —  The 
Preaching  of  Rev.  Lorenzo  Dow.  —  Anecdotes  of  the  Stolen 
Axe,  the  Negro's  Toot-horn,  and  the  Gallon  of  Rum. 

PAID  a  visit  to  Charlotte  County,  where 
John  Randolph  and  Patrick  Henry,  Vir- 
ginia's greatest  orators,  sleep  well  after 
"life's  fitful  fever."  In  very  sight  of  the 
"Peaks"  Henry  lived  and  died,  of  whom  Ran- 
dolph applied  the  words  of  Sacred  Writ;  one 
"who  spake  as  never  man  spake,"  and  of  whom 
Jefferson  declared  that  he  "was  the  greatest 
orator  tnat  ever  lived."  His  grave  is  very  rural. 
It  is  on  the  borders  of  a  forest,  surrounded  by  a 
slight  railing  overhung  by  vast  trees,  and,  singu- 
larly enough,  unmarked  by  a  monument.  A  rus- 
tic chair  stood  near  the  place  where  Henry,  in  his 
old  age,  used  to  sit  musing  for  hours. 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  so  few  reports 
of  his  "  ipsissima  verba  "  have  come  down  to  us  ; 
and  such  as  we  have  are  so  inaccurate  and  incom- 
plete, as  to  tantalize  us.  But  judging  from  the 
effects  he  produced,  his  power  must  have  been 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  141 

immense.  We  see  him  rise  before  the  assembled 
multitude  so  plain  in  his  exordium,  that  it  seems 
but  household  talk ;  so  careless  in  his  manners,  so 
simple  in  his  whole  bearing,  that  the  bookworm 
or  aristocrat  may  hesitate  whether  to  call  him  fool 
or  clown ;  but  this  is  only  for  a  moment.  So 
slight  has  been  the  attack,  that  the  audience  have 
been  thrown  off  their  guard,  and  their  hearts  open 
to  receive  the  charges  of  his  overwhelming  elo- 
quence. His  eye  flashes,  his  finger  strikes  con- 
viction, passion  swells  up  from  his  soul,  his  whole 
countenance  is  inflamed ;  his  voice,  now  tuned  to 
the  teuderest  notes  of  the  sorrows  of  suffering 
innocence,  now  cutting  with  the  severest  sarcasm, 
and  now  sounding  with  vehement  thunderbolts  of 
vengeance  and  defiance, —  all  these  we  witness, 
until  we  think  no  more  of  the  orator,  but  hang 
upon  his  lips  in  breathless  suspense,  thinking  as 
he  thinks,  feeling  as  he  feels,  on  the  subject  at 
stake. 

Not  far  off  is  New  London,  in  the  court-house 
of  which,  still  standing,  he  made  his  celebrated 
Johnny  Hook  beef  speech.  During  the  distress 
of  the  Army,  consequent  on  the  invasion  of  Corn- 
wallis,  the  Commissioner  had  seized  two  of 
Hook's  steers.  Peace  was  proclaimed,  and  Hook 
brought  an  action  for  trespass  against  the  Com- 
missioner, for  whom  Henry  acted  as  counsel. 


142  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

One  can  well   imagine  the  scene, —  the  crowded 
court-house,   the  miserable   question,  at  issue  — 
trespass,  in  time  of  invasion,  after  a  couple  of 
steers,    when    the    Army   was    distressed — and 
Hook's  unpopularity. 

Henry,  as  usual,  had  complete  control  of  the 
passions  of  the  audience,  and  more  especially 
of  their  merriment.  At  one  time  he  excited  their 
indignation  against  Hook,  and  vengeance  was 
visible  in  every  countenance ;  again,  when  he 
chose  to  relax,  and  ridicule  him,  the  whole 
audience  was  in  a  roar  of  laughter.  He  painted 
the  distress  of  the  American  Army,  exposed 
almost  naked  to  the  rigors  of  winter,  and  marking 
the  frozen  ground  over  which  they  marched  with 
their  unshod  feet.  Where  was  the  man,  he  said, 
who  had  an  American  heart,  who  would  not  have 
thrown  open  his  fields,  his  barns,  his  cellars,  the 
doors  of  his  house,  the  portals  of  his  breast,  to 
have  received  with  open  arms  the  meanest  soldier 
in  that  little  band  of  famished  patriots?  There 
he  stands  ;  but  whether  the  heart  of  an  American 
beats  in  his  bosom,  you,  gentlemen,  are  to 
judge. 

He  carried  the  jury  to  the  plains  of  Yorktown, 
the  surrender  of  which  followed  shortly  aftei 
the  act  complained  of.  He  depicted  the  surrender 
in  the  most  noble  colors  of  his  eloquence :  the 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  J43 

audience  saw  before  their  eyes  the  humiliation 
and  dejection  of  the  British  as  they  marched  out 
of  their  trenches ;  they  saw  the  triumph  which 
lighted  up  every  patriot's  face,  and  heard  the 
shouts  of  victory,  and  the  cry  of  "Washington 
and  Liberty  I  "  as  it  rung  and  echoed  through  the 
American  ranks,  and  was  reverberated  through 
the  hills  and  shores  of  the  neighboring  river. 
But  hark  1  What  notes  of  discord  are  these  which 
disturb  the  general  joy,  and  silence  the  acclama- 
tions of  victory  ?  They  are  the  notes  of  Johnny 
Hook,  hoarsely  bawling  out  through  the  American 
camp, — "  Beef  I  beef!  beef!"  The  whole  audi- 
ence was  convulsed.  The  clerk  of  the  court,  unable 
to  command  himself,  and  unwilling  to  commit 
any  breach  of  decorum  in  his  place,  rushed  out 
of  the  court-house,  and  threw  himself  on  the 
grass  in  the  most  violent  paroxysm  of  laughtfir. 
The  cause  was  decided  almost  by  acclamation. 
The  jury  retired,  for  form's  sake,  and  instantly 
returned  a  verdict  of  acquittal. 

John  Eandolph,  Henry's  illustrious  successor, 
was  descended,  in  the  seventh  generation,  from 
Pocahontas,  the  Indian  Princess.  The  hills  of 
Roanoke  are  in  sight  of  the  Peaks  of  Otter.  His 
first  speech  was  delivered  on  the  same  day  on 
which  Henry  delivered  his  last,  upon  the  same 
platform.  Randolph  was  a  candidate  for  Con- 


144  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

gress ;  Henry  for  the  State  Senate ;  but  they  were 
opposed  in  politics.  Henry  mounted  the  hustings 
with  the  full  measure  of  his  fame,  and,  though  in 
his  sixty-seventh  year,  his  eloquence  seemed  like 
an  avalanche  threatening  to  overwhelm  the  boy  of 
twenty-six.  He  carried  everything  Before  him, 
when,  waving  his  body  right  and  left,  the  audience 
unconsciously  waved  with  him.  As  he  finished, 
he  literally  descended  into  the  arms  of  the  obstrep- 
erous throng,  and  was  borne  about  in  triumph. 
The  cry  was,  " The  sun  is  set  in  all  his  glory! " 

While  one  was  setting,  another  was  rising,  with 
perhaps  equal  brilliancy.  But  Randolph  was  so 
youthful  and  unprepossessing  in  appearance  that 
the  audience  began  to  disperse,  and  an  Irishman 
exclaimed  :  w  Tut !  tut !  it  won't  do  ;  it's  nothing 
but  the  bating  of  an  ould  tin  pan  after  hearing  a  fine 
church-organ." 

This  singular  person's  peculiar  aspect,  shrill, 
novel  intonations,  and  his  cutting  sarcasm,  soon 
calmed  the  tumultuous  crowd,  and  inclined  all  to 
listen  to  the  strange  orator,  while  he  replied  at 
length  to  the  sentiments  of  their  old  favorite. 
When  he  had  concluded,  loud  huzzas  rang  thro  ugh 
the  welkin.  -  This  was  a  new  event  to  Mr.  Henry. 
He  had  not  been  accustomed  to  a  rival,  and  little 
expected  one  in  a  beardless  boy.  He  returned  to 
the  stage  and  commenced  a  second  address,  in 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  145 

which  he  soared  above  his  usual  vehemence  and 
majesty.  Such  is  usually  the  fruits  of  emulation 
and  rivalship.  He  frequently  adverted  to  his 
youthful  competitor  with  parental  tenderness,  and 
complimented  his  rare  talents  with  liberal  profu- 
sion ;  and  while  regretting  what  he  deprecated  as 
the  political  errors  of  his  youthful  zeal,  actually 
wrought  himself  and  his  audience  into  an  enthu- 
siasm of  sympathy  and  benevolence  that  issued  in 
an  ocean  of  tears.  The  gesture,  intonations,  and 
pathos  of  Mr.  Henry  operated  like  an  epidemic  on 
the  transported  audience.  The  contagion  was 
universal.  An  hysterical  frenzy  pervaded  the 
auditory  to  such  a  degree,  that  they  were,  at  the 
same  moment,  literally  weeping  and  laughing. 

In  this  contest  Henry  was  elected  to  the  Sen- 
ate of  Virginia,  but  did  not  live  to  take  his  seat, 
and  Randolph  to  Congress,  in  which  body,  at 
intervals,  he  served  more  than  twenty-four  years. 
Well  did  the  people  of  Charlotte  obey  the  last 
injunction  of  Henry,  in  his  speech  above  described  : 
*  Cherish  him,  — he  will  make  an  invaluable  man." 
Such  was  Randolph's  youthful  appearance,  that 
when  he  came  to  the  clerk's  table  at  the  House  of 
Representatives,  that  gentleman  could  not  refrain 
from  inquiring  his  age.  "Ask  my  constituents, 
sir"  was  the  reply.  Randolph  died  in  May,  1843. 
His  grave  is  in  a  dense  forest,  near  the  stream 
10 


146  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

called  "Roanoke,"  with  no  marble  memorial ;  but 
two  tall  pines  hang  their  rude  branches  over  the 
spot,  and  the  wind  mournfully  sighs  through  their 
foliage. 

On  taking  leave  of  his  constituents,  and  final 
retirement  from  public  life,  he  spoke  thus  :  "Peo- 
ple of  Charlotte  !  which  of  you  is  without  sin?"  at 
the  same  time  shaking  his  bony  fingers  with  thril- 
ling effect.  "But,"  continued  he,  "it  is  time  for 
me  to  retire,  and  prepare  to  stand  before  a  higher 
tribunal.  Here  is  the  trust  you  placed  in  my 
hands  twenty-eight  years  ago."  And,  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word,  as  if  rolling  a  great  weight 
toward  them,  he  exclaimed  "  Take  it  back  !  Take  it 
back ! " 

Randolph  had  a  great  veneration  for  religion, 
and  his  main  illustrations  were  taken  from  the 
Bible.  Towards  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he  was 
accustomed  to  call  his  three  hundred  servants 
together,  and  preach  to  them  with  surpassing  elo- 
quence. He  was  a  being  of  impulse ;  and  his 
eccentricities  remind  us  of  the  saying  of  Cicero, 
—  "  There  is  but  a  hair's  breadth  between  a  genius 
and  a  madman."  He  never  spoke  without  com- 
manding the  most  intense  interest ;  at  his  first  ges- 
ture or  word,  the  house  and  galleries  were  hushed 
into  silent  attention.  His  voice  was  shrill  and 
piping,  but  at  perfect  command.  His  tall  person, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  147 

firm  eye,  and  peculiarly  expressive  fingers,  with 
his  command  of  language,  in  satire  and  invective, 
were,  to  an  enemy,  almost"  annihilating.  His 
power  of  invective,  charged  against  Henry  Clay, 
contributed  perhaps  more  than  anything  else  to 
defeat  him  as  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency.  In 
a  duel  between  them,  Randolph  showed  great 
magnanimity  ;  it  was  fought  on  the  banks  or  the 
Potomac. 

The  evening  before,  Randolph  had  confided  to 
his  friends  that  he  could  not  make  Clay's  wife  a 
widow,  and  that.he  would  receive  without  returning 
the  fire.  The  moment  the  word  was  given,  Mr. 
Clay  fired,  but  without  effect;  and  Mr.  Randolph 
discharged  his  pistol  in  the  air.  When  Mr.  Clay 
saw  that  Randolph  had  thrown  away  his  fire,  with  a 
gush  of  sensibility  he  approached  him,  and  said,  with 
overwhelming  emotion,  KI  trust  in  God,  my  dear 
sir,  you  are  untouched  ;  after  what  has  occurred,  I 
would  not  have  harmed  you  for  a  thousand  worlds." 

Randolph,  afterwards,  was  a  friend  of  Clay's, 
and,  had  he  lived,  his  voice  might  have  elevated 
the  noble  Kentuckian  to  the  place  of  his  desert. 
The  last  meeting  and  parting  of  these  gentlemen 
in  Congress  Hall  is  said  to  have  been  most  pathetic  ; 
it  was  but  a  few  days  previous  to  the  death  of  Mr. 
Randolph. 

Not  the  least  subject  of  interest  in   Bedford 


1-1-8  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

County,  was  the  preaching  of  Lorenzo  Dow.  He 
made  his  first  appearance  near  New  London,  before 
a  vast  concourse  of  people,  who  were,  by  flying 
reports,  in  a  furor  of  excitement  to  witness  the 
strange  preacher, —  a  tall,  long-faced  man,  with 
long  Indian  locks  flowing  down  his  shoulders, 
meek  and  solemn  in  countenance,  with  now  and 
then  a  sly  wink  of  waggish  shrewdness,  singular 
in  garb,  eccentric  in  manners,  vehement  in  decla- 
mation, witty  in  ridicule,  cutting  in  sarcasm,  quick 
in  leaping  to  a  logical  conclusion,  severe  upon  the 
commonly  received  doctrines  of  election, —  a  man 
who  had  filled  the  world  with  witticisms,  been 
mobbed  so  many  times,  been  excommunicated 
from  his  own  church  for  wandering,  who  was 
boundless  in  his  philanthrophy,  knowing  no  North 
or  South,  rich  or  poor,  receiving  no  reward,  for- 
giving all  things,  hoping  all  things,  enduring  all 
things ;  the  man  admired  by  some  of  the  purest 
Christians,  and  condemned  by  others  ;  thought  by 
some  a  pure,  holy,  self-denying,  perfect  saint ; 
stigmatized  by  others  as  a  fanatic.  Such  a  sin- 
gular genius  could  not  fail  to  awaken  an  inter- 
est. The  triumph  of  his  genius  was  complete. 
Sinners  and  sceptics  quailed  at  his  graphic  descrip- 
tion of  the  final  judgment,  and  the  agony  of  the 
lost,  and  many  were  smitten  with  conviction  of 
their  heaven-daring  and  holl-deserving  sins.  On 


UFE-STRUGGLES.  149 

• 

one  occasion  he  prayed  that  the  woman  who  was 
that  night  to  die  (at  the  same  time  pointing  with 
thrilling  effect  among  the  dense  crowd) ,  might  be 
prepared  for  judgment.  The  next  morning  a 
woman  was  found,  a  corpse,  in  her  bed,  and  many 
now  believed  him  a  prophet  sent  of  God.  He 
preached  several  days,  having  many  converts ; 
but  he  mixed  much  drollery  with  his  genius,  which 
gave  offence  to  some  of  the  elders. 

As  an  instance  of  his  shrewdness,  it  is  related 
that  a  gentleman  once  meeting  him  on  his  way  to 
an  appointment,  observed  to  him  that  he  had  lost 
an  axe,  and  he  expected  the  thief  would  be  in  the 
congregation  ;  and  that,  while  the  thief  was  there,  he 
intended  to  search  the  supposed  thief  s  premises. 

"Never  mind  the  search,"  says  Mr.  Dow;  "go 
with  me,  and  the  Lord  will  take  care  of  your 
axe." 

Mr.  Dow,  placing  a  stone  in  his  pocket,  entered 
the  pulpit,  and  preached  upon  the  Commandments. 
When  the  commandment  against  stealing  was 
presented,  he  soared  beyond  his  usual  powers  of 
description.  He  spoke  of  the  ancient  mode  of 
restitution,  and  of  the  all-seeing  eye  of  Omnipo- 
tence, and  the  duty  of  confession.  He  pictured 
graphically  the  stoning  to  death  of  Achan,  the 
son  of  Carmi,  who  had  stolen  the  Babylonish 
garment,  and  the  wedge  of  gold  and  shekels  of 


150  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

• 

silve  *.  The  audience  could  see  him  kneeling, 
and  confessing  before  Joshua,  and  submitting 
unto  death,  with  the.  horrid  destruction  of  all 
his  family  in  flames.  Now  there  was  a  person 
in  that  audience  who  was  guilty  of  stealing.  He 
seized  the  stone,  calling  upon  the  spirits  of  God 
and  of  angels  to  direct  it  to  the  head  of  the 
guilty.  He  saw  a  man  in  a  distant  part  of  his 
audience  begin  to  tremble,  and  felt  confident  of 
victory.  He  gazed  intensely  upon  that  man,  with 
a  furious,  a  most  searching  eye.  The  horrified, 
conscience-smitten  wretch  looked  here  and  there 
anxiously  for  a  place  of  escape,  but  the  thick 
crowd  in  the  grove  presented  a  barrier.  What 
was  he  to  do?  The  sure-aimed  stone  is  poised 
in  the  inspired  hand,  and  circling  round  with  a 
deadly  intent,  when  lo !  the  quivering  culprit 
jumped  behind  a  tree  !  "There,  neighbor  Jones," 
cried  out  the  preacher,  "  there  stands  the  thief 
who  stole  your  axe,  sneaking  behind  the  tree  ! " 

On  another  occasion,  arriving  before  the  hour 
at  the  place  of  preaching,  he  met  a  negro  boy 
with  a  tin  horn,  and  inquired  what  use  the  boy 
intended  to  make  of  it.  The  boy  stated  that  he 
had  been  hired  to  blow  it  while  old  Dow  should 
be  preaching. 

"Now,"  says  Mr.  Dow,  "will  you  blow  it  for 
me  if  I  give  you  a  dollar  ?  " 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  151 

The  boy  consented,  and  hid  himself  in  the 
thick  foliage  of  a  tree  over  the  preacher's  head. 
When  the  audience  came,  he  preached  upon  the 
judgment  of  the  last  day  with  wonderful  vehe- 
mence. The  audience  could  almost  see  a  sinful 
world  hurled  to  judgment,  the  heavens  departing 
with  a  great  noise,  and  the  elements  melting  with 
fervent  heat,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  excitement, 
at  the  top  of  his  voice,  the  preacher  cried  out, 
"Blow,  Gabriel,  blow!"  The  boy  commenced 
a  slight  toot  at  first,  and  then  made  the  woods 
ring  with  deafening  reverberations  !  Some  actually 
fainted  at  the  shock. 

"  Oh,  you  ungodly  cowards  ! "  cried  the  preacher ; 
K  it's  nothing  but  a  little  nigger  blowing  a  toot- 
horn  !  If  you  are  so  easily  frightened  now,  what 
will  be  your  consternation  when  the  angel,  at  the 
last  day,  shall  stand  with  one  foot  on  the  sea  and 
one  on  the  land,  and  sound  the  trumpet  for  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead?" 

A  young  man  on  a  spree  determined  to  play  a 
trick  upon  Mr.  Dow,  and  laid  a  wager  with  his  com- 
panions, of  a  gallon  of  rum,  that  in  less  than  an 
hour  he  would  go  to  Mr.  Dow,  be  converted,  and 
return  a  Christian.  Meanwhile  Mr.  Dow  had  been 
apprised  of  the  facts  of  the  case.  The  young 
man,  approaching  Mr.  Dow,  said  to  him  that  he 
felt  a  deep  sense  of  sin,  that  he  should  very  soon 


152  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

be  lost  if  he  found  no  mercy,  that  he  was  willing 
to  forsake  all  things  and  do  anything  for  the  sal- 
vation of  his  soul,  and  that  he  had  humbly  come 
to  seek  an  interest  in  his  prayers.  Mr.  Dow 
stated  that  his  case  was  hopeless  without  conver 
sion,  and  ordered  him  to  kneel  for  prayers.  He 
cried  :  "  O  Lord  !  here  at  my  feet  is  a  great  sinner. 
He  has  bet  a  gallon  of  rum!  Now,  O  Lord  !  con- 
vert him,  if  he  will  be  converted;  if  not,  Mil 
him,  —  let  him  die!" 

The  man  was  thundertsruck ;  without  his  hat, 
on  all-fours,  he  crept  for  the  door !  Mr.  Dow 
strove  to  call  him  back,  stating  that  service  was 
not  properly  concluded ;  but  the  wretch  fled  for 
his  life,  declaring  that  the  preacher  was  either 
inspired,  or  had  a  familiar  spirit. 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  153 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

Monticcllo. — Jefferson's  Residence. —  Popular  Forest. — Tomb 
of  Jefferson.  —  University.  —  Chaplain  and  the  Bible.  — 
French  Politics  and  Religion.  —  Mammoth.  —  Broken- 
hearted.—  Veolia  and  Ostee.  —  "Go,  white  man,  go  1"  — 
Death  of  Veolia.  — Ostee's  Despair.  —  ^Eolian  Harp. 

AST  of  the  Peaks  of  Otter,  towards  Lynch- 
burg,  is  "Poplar  Forest,"  once  the  resi- 
dence  of  Thomas  Jefferson.  The  dwell- 
in#  is  of  brick,  and  in  the  form  of  an 
octagon,  similar  to  his  Monticello  residence.  Here, 
daring  the  winter  of  1781,  he  wrote  his  cel- 
ebrated "Notes  on  Virginia,"  in  reply  to  the 
French  Secretary  of  Legation  to  the  United  States. 
They  were  printed  several  years  after,  while  he 
was  Minister  to  France. 

Neither  Poplar  Forest  nor  Monticello  is  now  in 
possession  of  any  of  the  Jefferson  family.  Mon- 
ticello was  owned  by  a  Jewish  Captain  in  the 
United  States  Navy;  the  buildings  were  much 
dilapidated,  and  the  tomb  defaced  by  pilgrim 
patriots,  who  barbarously  hammered  the  monument 
for  relics. 

TOMB  OF  JEFFERSON. 
HAIL,  Monticello  !  at  thy  shrine  I  bow, 
And  drop  the  tear,  and  pay  the  pilgrim  vow  ; 
As  evening  weaves  her  shroud,  and  silence  reigns, 
I  muse  with  moonbeams  o'er  these  cold  remains. 


154  SHADOWY  HAND;  on, 

Rash  stranger  !  hold  thy  sacrilegious  hand, 
Nor  bruise  this  tomb  for  relics  !  Mortal !  stand 
Or  by  the  indignation  of  thy  race, 
By  mad  irreverence,  shame,  by  dire  disgrace, 
By  powers  that  guard  the  consecrated  dead, 
Beware,  e'er  vengeance  strike  thy  guilty  head  1 

O  patriot,  sage,  immortal  Jefferson  ! 

Behold  the  manglings  of  thy  battered  stone  ! 

But  think  not  all  this  race  ungrateful.     No  ! 

This  solemn  hour,  in  yonder  dome  below, 

Are  met  the  grave,  the  young,  the  wise,  the  great, 

Thy  happy  natal  hour  to  celebrate, 

To  laud  thy  fame,  increasing  age  by  age 

As  plans  mature,  revealed  on  History's  page, 

That  prove  thee  wisest,  greatest  of  the  line 

Of  learned  statesmen  to  the  present  time. 

Like  the  Plymouth  rock  upon  which  the  Puritans 
landed,  unless  protected  by  iron  bolts,  the  obelisk 
must  pass  away  in  pocket  relics.  Being  near  the 
University  of  Virginia,  founded  by  Jefferson,  and 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  institutions  of  the 
country,  it  is  frequented  by  multitudes. 

Jefferson  was  much  influenced  by  French  pol- 
itics, and  French  views  of  religion.  He  thought 
the  Bible  should  be  omitted  as  a  reading-book. 
At  the  University  the  students  became  riotous. 
He  was  called  on  to  quell  the  riot,  and  concluded 
that  a  chaplain  and  a  Bible  would  have  a  human- 
izing influence. 

He  was  profound  as  a  statesman,  sagacious  as  a 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  155 

jaw-maker,  arid  ingenious  as  a  philosopher ;  but 
as  a  soldier  and  general,  his  skill  existed  only  in 
theory. 

While  Governor  of  Virginia,  the  traitor  Arnold 
was  allowed  to  sack  the  Capitol  with  only  eight 
hundred  troops,  without  losing  a  man. 

But  Jefferson  was  no  warrior.  The  five  brass 
cannon  were  planted,  not  against  the  enemy,  but 
at  the  bottom  of  the  James ;  the  teamsters  and 
militia,  instead  of  loading  muskets  with  powder 
and  ball,  loaded  wagons  with  arms  and  ammunition, 
and  drove  them  post-haste  into  the  country. 
Five  tons  of  powder  were  borne  away  with  the 
utmost  despatch.  So  animated  was  the  Governor's 
fugitive  movements,  that  one  horse  sank  beneath 
him,  and  he  was  obliged  to  mount "  an  unbroken 
colt."  Unparalleled  were  his  exertions,  but 
unfortunately  they  were  of  no  avail.  The  cannon 
were  found,  the  powder,  magazines,  and  public 
stores  destroyed,  with  much  private  property. 

Meeting  with  no  opposition,  the  British  would 
naturally  be  inclined  to  return  ;  so  the  Legislature 
was  obliged  to  adjourn  to  Charlotte ville,  and  here 
they  barely  escaped  being  taken,  and  fled  to 
Stauuton,  where,  by  Mr.  Jefferson's  request, 
General  Nplson  was  chosen  Governor.  Governor 
Nelson  immediately  repaired  to  join  the  army 
near  Yorktown,  and  Mr.  Jefferson  retired  to 


150  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

Poplar  Forest.  Here,  being  indisposed  by  a 
fall  from  his  horse,  he  composed  his  "Notes," 
in  which  is  shown  much  learning  and  felicity  of 
expression. 

In  accounting  for  the  physical  aspect  of  the 
country,  the  various  Layers  of  strata,  and  the  sea- 
shells  upon  the  mountains,  he  demurs  somewhat 
from  the  opinion  of  theologians ;  and,  treating 
on  education,  he  thinks  the  Bible  might  be  omitted 
as  a  reading-book  until  the  scholar  shall  be  able 
to  comprehend  it ;  —  a  doctrine  agreeable  to  Cath- 
olics. 

South  of  the  Peaks,  near  Buford's  Gap,  remains 
of  the  Mammoth  have  been  excavated,  the  size  o'f 
whose  bones  appears  almost  incredible,  the  dis- 
tance between  the  eyes  being  about  seven  feet. 
Jefferson  speaks  of  this  animal,  in  his  "  Notes,"  as 
having  the  jaws  of  a  hippopotamus  and  the  tusk 
of  an  elephant,  being  larger  than  either,  and  a 
combination  of  both.  Perhaps  it  is  in  mercy  to 
man  that  this  monster  has  become  extinct ;  it 
must  have  fed  on  bears  and  horses,  swallowing 
them  wJiole.  The  bones  of  the  one  recently  found 
covered  a  space  of  earth  of  more  than  forty  feet. 
They  were  discovered  in  alluvial  soil,  upon  a  bed 
of  limestone.  As  limestone  rock  was  on  either 
side,  an  Irishman  commenced  boring  and  blasting 
in  the  head  of  the  animal,  supposing  it  to  be  a  kind 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  157 

of  rock.  When  questioned  as  to  his  motives  in 
destroying  the  bones,  he  replied  :  "  Faith,  there  ba 
anough  of  the  plaguy  crathur  left  after  when  ya 
build  a  railroad  between  his  eyes !  " 

Very  near  the  remains  of  an  old  block-house, 
Indian  relics  —  balls,  tomahawks,  hatchets,  beads, 
pipes,  arrows,  and  images  of  worship  —  were 
discovered  in  large  quantities.  An  Indian  trail 
led  past  this  spot,  and  was  the  scene  of  frequent 
battles. 

Still  is  remembered  the  sweet  legend  of  Oslee 
and  Veotta,  the  Broken-hearted. 

Two  sons  by  the  name  of  Holsten,  whilegathering 
mulberries  at  a  short  distance  from  the  block-house, 
were  surprised  by  the  Indians  ;  one  was  shot,  and 
the  other  taken  captive.  Holsten,  knowing  the 
barbarity  of  the  Indians,  expected  nothing  but 
torture ;  indeed  he  preferred  to  be  shot  with  his 
brother,  rather  than  to  risk  his  fate.  After  three 
days'  travel  he  was  bound,  and  allowed  to  rest 
before  his  execution.  Fatigued  and  exhausted,  he 
slept,  and  dreamed  of  his  brother's  blood,  heard 
his  dying  shriek,  felt  his  own  flesh  consuming  by 
slow  torture  with  agony  a  hundredfold  worse  than 
sudden  death !  Now,  half  awake,  he  sees  the 
council  of  chiefs,  the  watch-fire,  and  the  reeking 
tomahawk !  With  a  deep  groan,  he  wishes  his 
sleep  had  been  death.  A  hand  presses  his  brow  ! 
Is  it  the  hand  of  the  scalping-knife  ?  No  !  it  w 


158  SHADOWY    HAND,    OR, 

the  hand  of  a  female, —  a  hand  of  compassion! 
He  gazes  half  hopeful,  half  in  doubt,  and  at  length 
feels  his  hands  loosened  from  their  fastening,  a  gen- 
tle finger  upon  his  forehead,  and  a  beautiful  image 
by  his  side,  wiping  off  the  cold  sweat,  and  pityingly 
watching  the  agony  of  his  heart.  He  rises,  with 
gushing  tears  welling  up  from  a  heart  overwhelm- 
ing with  gratitude,  and  clasps  her  to  his  bosom  in 
a  transport  of  ecstasy.  Their  hearts  are  united 
no  more  to  separate. 

Veolia,  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  chiefs,  his 
protectress,  becomes  his  companion ;  he  delights 
in  the  wild  excitement,  of  forest  life,  and  sur- 
passes ttte  swift-footed  Indians  in  the  chase.  The 
mountains  and  the  cataracts  are  a  passion  to  him  ; 
the  softest  furs  are  his  pillow ;  the  rarest  game  his 
food ;  and  he  espouses  Nature's  noblest  daughter. 
Years  of  rapturous  delight  fly  as  a  dream.  He  is 
familiarly  known  among  the  chiefs  as  "  Ostee  the 
Brave,"  and  the  pride  of  "Olla"  (or  Veolia),  his 
bosom  friend  and  ministering  spirit. 

But  the  time  arrives  when  he  would  fain  visit  his 
parents  and  his  friends.  Can  he  leave  Olla,  to  whom 
he  owes  his  life,  and  the  joy  of  his  happiest  years  ? 
Can  he  leave  that  pure,  transparent  face  of  love, 
never  veiled  from  the  sun's  warm  kisses,  that  has 
lit  up  his  heart  with  feelings  divine  ? 

She  heard  Ostee's  resolve  to  visit  the  whites, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  159 

and  his  promise  to  return ;  and  now  comes  the 
most  trying  scene  of  her  life.  The  whites,  she 
knew,  had  proved  insincere ;  had  made  treaties 
and  broken  them ;  had  destroyed  the  hunting- 
grounds,  and  slaughtered  the  poor  Indian.  Like 
them,  she  feared  the  heart  of  Ostee  might  forsake 
her.  She  trembled  and  wept ;  but  upon  a  high 
mountain  crag,  looking  towards  the  white  settle- 
ment with  brave  despair,  and  taking,  as  she  feared, 
her  last  farewell,  she  bade  him  go. 

"Go,  white  man  !  Olla  will  see  thee  no  more  ; 
a  bird  of  fair  plumage  and  sweet  voice,  that  has 
nestled  in  my  bosom.  Olla  loves  Ostee,  but  Ostee 
loves  not  Olla.  Go,  white  man  I  Olla  will  take 
no  venison  but  from  the  hand  of  Ostee ;  her  head 
shall  press  no  furs  but  his.  Olla  will  die.  The 
Great  Spirit  calls  her  from  the  leaves  of  the  trees 
in  the  air.  Olla  will  die.  She  fears  not  to  die. 
She  fears  nothing  but  to  grieve  Ostee.  Ostee 
loves  the  pale  woman.  The  pale  race  hate  red 
man,  and  kill  him.  Red  man  saved  thy  life  for 
Olla.  Go,  white  man  !  Olla  will  live  no  more." 

Holsten  parted  from  her  with  anguish.  He  hur- 
ried to  the  home  of  his  boyhood,  but  everything 
was  changed.  His  friends  and  relations  were  dis- 
persed far  away.  The  very  grounds  where,  in  his 
boyhood,  he  hunted,  were  now  covered  with  roofs. 
How  desolate  he  felt !  He  determines  to  return ; 


160  SHADOWY  HAND;   OR, 

he  hastens  back  to  the  forest,  and  flies  to  the  pres- 
ence of  Olla ;  but,  approaching  the  tribe,  he  finds, 
alas !  she  is  no  more.  She  was  not  one  to  till 
life's  cup  of  pleasure  to  the  brim,  and  ever  after 
feed  on  dregs ;  she  committed  suicide  as  soon  as  he 
was  out  of  sight. 

Now  Holsten's  happiness  was  at  an  end ;  he 
returned  to  Bedford  County,  dejected,  disheart- 
ened. He  replied  kindly  when  spoken  to,  but 
regarded  all  things  earthly  with  indifference.  His 
tall  frame  was  bent,  his  head  bowed.  He  strove 
to  hunt,  but  Olla  would  no  more  leap  to  his  arms 
in  his  glad  return  with  the  game,  and  print  the 
warm  kiss  upon  his  cheek.  He  had  no  Spirit  for 
the  chase.  He  shot  only  one  bird ;  it  was  a  dove, 
that  fell  quivering  and  dying  at  his  feet,  with  its 
heart's  blood  staining  the  glossy  feathers  of  its 
downy  breast.  He  gazed  upon  it,  saw  its  quiver- 
ing wing,  saw  it  dip  its  bill  in  the  purple  drops 
flowing  from  its  innocent  heart,  and  with  pearly 
tears  point  towards  him  the  blood-stained  monitor. 
He.thought  of  the  wounded,  broken  heart  of  Olla, 
and  would  hunt  no  more.  In  vain  they  resorted 
to  the  violin ;  there  was  no  music  to  his  ear  but 
the  voice  of  Olla  ;  and  from  the  tall  pine  whistling 
in  mournful  numbers  near  his  cabin-door,  he  imag- 
ined that  her  spirit  was  sighing  in  low,  dulcet 
strains,  still  fearful  to  enter  the  dwelling  of  the 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  1G1 

whites,   still    faithful   in  holy   devotion    to    her 
ungrateful  and  most  unhappy  Ostee. 

He  resolved  upon  an  expedient  to  call  her  to 
his  bedside,  and  converse  with  her  in  a  language 
unknown  to  his  relatives  and  friends.  He  placed 
his  hand  in  his  bosom,  and  took  the  long  braids  of 
hair  which  he  had  kept  with  holy  reverence  near 
his  anguished  heart  since  their  last  parting,  and 
separated  them  in  small  strands  of  various  sizes, 
and  hung  them  in  the  crevices  between  the  logs  of 
his  cabin,  directly  over  his  pillow.  These  long 
Indian  locks  had  witnessed  deep  devotion,  and  the 
tenderest  of  human  passions.  Many  a  time  had 
they  fallen  upon  the  face  of  Holsten,  drenched 
with  the  tears  of  his  affectionate  companion,  and 
many  a  time  had  they  veiled  her  face  and  drank 
the  unseen  drops  of  her  overflowing  love.  Could 
she  now  forsake  them,  when  strung  by  the  hand 
of  her  dear  Ostee,  and  kept  as  the  only  relic 
sacred  to  his  heart  ?  No,  never  I  With  the  slight- 
est breath  of  air  pouring  through  the  openings  of 
the  gable-ends  of  his  cabin,  the  coarser  strands 
were  continually  murmuring,  in  low,  pensive  num- 
bers, like  the  half-suppressed  sigh  of  a  dying 
loved  one  striving  to  hide  from  her  beloved  com- 
panion the  partially  concealed  grief  of  her  broken 
heart.  Now  a  brisk  breeze  strikes  the  finer  chords 
with  most  piteous  wailiugs,  and  the  intermediate 
11 


162  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

strands  present  every  variety  of  sound.  Night 
and  day,  without  cessation,  pours  forth  the  .JSolian 
melody. 

Holsten  reclined  upon  his  couch,  and  listened  in 
silence,  until  his  mind,  fast  losing  its  attachment 
to  earth,  seemed,  with  his  Veolia,  far  away.  He 
thought  that  her  tears  glittered  in  precious  pearls 
upon  the  sweating  chords,  and,  starting  from  his 
disturbed  slumbers,  he  imagined  her  hand  had 
pressed  his  brow,  and  her  tears  had  distilled  in 
affectionate  sympathy  upon  his  cheek,  and  "  Veolia, 
Veolia/"  still  whispers  upon  the  strings.  'Tis  a 
sweet  sound  !  All  the  happiness  of  his  life  echoes 
in  the  name,  and  all  his  hope  is  to  meet  her  in 
heaven. 

To  call  off  his  mind  from  the  exciting  topic, 
he  was  accompanied  to  the  banks  of  the  stream. 
But  there  warbled  in  its  flowing  tide  the  name  of 
"Veolia";  there  appeared  upon  the  golden  sands 
of  the  stream  her  spectral  shadow  beckoning  him 
away,  and  he  longed  to  embrace  the  object  of 
his  vision.  He  visited  the  stream,  day  after  day, 
growing  paler  and  weaker,  with  the  same  shadows 
dancing  before  him,  until,  so  attenuated  and 
spiritualized,  there  was  but  little  left  of  his 
earthly  tabernacle.  He  laid  himself  upon  his 
couch  to  die.  His  mind  seems  in  unison  with  the 
strains  over  his  head;  his  lips  whisper  to  their 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  163 

numbers ;  his  eyelids  sink  languidly ;  smiles  sit 
expressively  upon  his  pale  countenance ;  and  as 
the  low,  mellow  music  expires  with  the  dying 
wind,  a  shadow  comes  over  his  silent  features, 
and  the  shrill  tones  of  the  next  rising  swell  of 
that  harp  find  no  response.  — Holsten  is  dead  ! 

THE   AEOLIAN. 

HE  took  from  his  bosom  the  braid, 

And  strung  to  the  breezes  sighing  ; 
All  pale  on  his  oouch  he  was  laid, 

And  caught  the  sweet  strain  when  dying. 
It  sighed  in  soft  murmurs  low, 
"Veolia,  Olia,  Olia,  Ol" 

Like  whispers  of  angels  the  strain, 

Who  sigh  o'er  the  broken-hearted, 
It  calls  forth  his  loved  one  again, 

The  maid  that  hath  long  since  departed  ; 
And  sweet  as  the  dulcimer's  flow, 
"  Veolia,  Olia,  Olia,  O  ! " 

Like  ocean  in  slumberings  still, 

Soft  spirits  his  senses  are  stealing, 
Like  ocean  in  boisterous  thrill, 

Now  rouses  its  rapturous  feeling, 
And  wail,  as  the  finer  strings  blow, 
"  Veolia,  Olia,  Olia,  O  I  " 

The  breezes  are  dying  away, 

The  sun  slowly  setting  in  sorrow, 
And  pouring  its  last  lingering  ray 

On  him  who  will  meet,  ere  the  morrow 
Far,  far  from  this  desert  of  woe, 
"  Veolia,  Olia,  Olia,  O  I  ' 


164  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

Smiles  dance  on  his  countenance  now, 

His  visions  of  glory  are  breaking, 
But  shadows  come  over  his  brow  ; 

He  sleeps,  — but  too  deep  for  awaking  I 
He  meets,  on  the  winged  zephyr's  blow, 
"  Veolia,  Olia,  Olia,  O  I " 

The  winds  see  their  kisses  in  skies, 
And  clouds  flash  the  smiles  of  their  greeting, 

And  honey-dews  fall  from  their  eyes, 
And  Ecstasy  shouts  at  their  meeting. 

Farewell !    With  her  lover  must  go 

Veolia,  Olia,  Olia,  O  1 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  165 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

Preaohing  to  Slaves  at  Richmond.  —  Excited  Congregation. — 
Shouts  of  "  Glory  !  glory  !"  —  Natural  Bridge.  —  Leyburn 
Lackland's  Leap.  —  Shadow  of  the  Departed.  —  Deer.  — 
Puss  taking  a  Sam  Patch  Leap.  —  Teamster's  Lost  Fuel.  — 
Romantic  Marriages. 

Sunday  I  preached  at  Richmond,  Vir- 
ginia, to  the  slave's.  The  church  for  colored 
people  here  is  built  in  the  shape  of  a  cross, 
having  three  galleries,  .and  four  or  five 
doors  for  entrance,  and  will  hold  more  than  a 
thousand  persons.  It  was  crowded  to  excess. 
The  pastor  of  the  church  was  learned  enough,  if 
learning  is  what  is  needed  for  the  salvation,  of 
such  an  audience  ;  for  he  was  President  of  Rich-* 
rnond  College,  and  of  course  was  a  white  man, 
no  other  in  those  parts  being  allowed  to  preach, 
any  more  than  the  women  were  by  St.  Paul. 
This  is  a  great  theatre,  for  a  young  preacher  to 
practise  in  pulpit  oratory,  —  that  is,  if  he  wants 
to  study  Nature,  and  read  human  passion  and 
feeling  from  Nature's  own  pages,  rather  than 
from  books.  One  hour  here  is  worth  more  than 
the  theoretical  drilling  and  sham  gesticulations 
of  a  \\hole  college  course.  If  eloquence  be  hi 


166  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

the  man,  here  it  must  come  out.  There  aro  no 
cold,  heartless  critics  to  put  the  brake  on  the  first 
impetus  of  passion  (unless  it  be  some  members 
of  the  legislature  who  come  in  out  of  curiosity, 
as  they  did  here) . 

My  subject  was  the  'rich  man  and  Lazarus. 
Unaccustomed  to  such  sympathy  from  an  audience, 
I  was  at  once  borne  on  a  tide  of  feeling  beyond" 
myself,  and  perhaps  was  as  much  carried  away 
with  the  excitement  as  were  my  congregation. 
I  stopped,  and  told  them  to  wipe  their  tears,  for 
we  were  going  to  contemplate  a  scene  where  all 
tears  were  wiped  away. 

I  said,  "Come  and  see  how  a  good  man  can 
die.  Come  and  see  one  whose  pulses  beat  easy 
though  he  may  lie  by  the  wayside,  —  one  whose 
wounds  may  have  no  oil,  and  whose  spirit  no 
earthly  balm.  The  dogs  are  his  only  sympathizers, 
his  only  physicians,  and  his  only  mourners. 

"But  look  through  that  dark  cloud  above,  and 
in  faith  see  that  light !  There  come  a  host  of 
angels,  and  with  overshadowing  wings  they  watch 
the  soul's  last  struggle  —  the  last  throbbing  of 
the  pulse  —  the  last  beating  of  the  heart  —  the 
last  heaving  sigh ;  —  and  now,  as  the  ear  is  dull 
to  sounds  without,  the  inner  ear  is  charmed  with 
celestial  voices ;  and  as  the  sight  grows  dim, 
Faith  sees  the  angels,  &nd  the  soul,  struggling  to 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  167 

break  from  earth,  now  nestles,  now  flutters,  now 
claps  its  bright  wings,  and  bursts  its  fetters,  and 
mounting  higher  and  higher,  is  escorted  by  angel 
convoys  to  Abraham's  bosom." 

When  I  pictured  the  last  struggles  of  the  soul 
panting  to  be  free,  and  waved  my  arms  as  wings 
beating  the  air,  and  then  at  the  victorious  moment 
brought  my  hands  together  with  a  mighty  clap, 
many  a  hand  followed  the  example  with  clappiugs, 
and  with  shoutings  of  "  Glory  !  glory  !  glory  to 
God!" 

I  continued,  and  said :  "  Where  is  Lazarus  ? 
What  part  of  heaven  is  for  the  poor  man  and  the 
slave  ?  Let  us  picture  the  beauties  of  heaven  as 
rich  men  would  have  it.  Here  I  behold  the  upper 
courts,  — the  courts  for  kings  and  princes.  Here 
I  see  the  palaces  for  the  rich  men,  the  mighty 
men,  and  the  chief  captains.  These  constitute 
the  oligarchy  of  heaven.  They  have  a  higher 
order  of  cherubim  to  minister  to  their  joys,  and 
more  melodious  harps.  And  there  I  see  poor 
Lazarus  and  the  poor  slave  in  the  outer  courts,  — 
in  the  more  secluded  part,  and  in  the  lower  foun- 
dations. And,  in  fact,  it  is  but  the  kitchen-place 
of  heaven.  They  have  angels,  but  of  a  lower 
grade ;  and  harps,  but  of  humbler  ministrelsy. 
They  can  taste  but  slightly  of  the  waters,  and 
the  Tree  of  Life,  and  take  only  what  others  refuse. 


168  SHADOWS   HAND;  OR,. 

O  my  Saviour !  is  this  heaven  ?    Are  there  such 
distinctions    here?      Where,   then,    is   Lazarus? 
Where   is   Abraham?     Oh,   ye   poor   slaves!  ye 
despised  human  beings  !  ye  who  are  poorer  than 
Poverty's  own  self,  whose   flesh   and   bones  are 
not  your  own  !     Tell  me,  ignorant  as  you  are,  who 
was  Abraham?     Was   he  not  the   father  of  the 
faithful?     Then   is   he    not    honored  among  the 
highest  seats   of  heaven?      And   tell   me,   then, 
where  is  Lazarus, —  poor  despised  Lazarus?     He 
who  had  the  dogs  for  his   watchers,  a  stone  foi 
his   pillow,    and   a   ditch    for    his    burial-place? 
Where  is   he  ?     Look  ye  !     Above  the  rich   and 
the   mighty !  above   the   high   priests  and   chief 
captains  !     Look  far  up  yonder,  and  tell  nie  what 
gives  us  the  high  places  in  heaven?     Is  it  money, 
or  is  it  faith?     Then   see   Lazarus  dropping  off 
the   garments  of  mortality,   and  putting  on   the 
clean  white  robe  that   the  angels   brought   him. 
See  him,  like  the  insect,  leaving  his  chrysalis  to 
spread  his  wings  !     See  him,  with  harp  in  hand, 
mount    upward !       See    the    angels    escort    him 
through  the  gates  with  shoutings,   'Lazarus  has 
come!  —  poor,    neglected,   contemned,   disdained 
Lazarus  ! '     See  him  pass  by  the  rich  and  the  noble, 
.by  the  kings  and  the  priests,  away  up  !  up  !     Glory 
to  God !     See  him   above  the  prophets   and  the 
ancient   worthies,  above   the   apostles,  away  up 


LIFE-STEUGGLES.  169 

in  the  high  bosom  of  Abraham.  Lazarus  is 
saved  in  the  highest  heaven  !  Oh,  shout  and 
clap  jour  hands,  ye  slaves !  There  is  a  heaven 
for  you,  where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 
and  where  the  weary  be  at  rest,  where  the  prison- 
ers rest  together,  and  hear  not  the  voice  of  the 
oppressor.  The  small  and  the  great  are  there ; 
and  the  servant  is  free  from  his  master." 

When  I  said,  "Shout  and  clap  your  hands,'* 
many  of  them  took  the  order  literally,  and  they 
literally  fulfilled  it,  so  that  the  last  words  were 
drowned  in  the  commotion. 

One  old  slave  was  so  happy,  she  did  not  seem 
to  know  whether  she  was  in  the  body  or  out  of 
it;  she  jumped,  and  danced,  and  shouted,  and, 
as  the  little  pew  could  not  hold  her,  out  she 
came  into  the  aisle,  jumped  up  higher  and  higher, 
and  took  such  high  leaps  for  heaven,  was  so 
determined  to  go  up  bodily,  that  it  took  two  men 
to  hold  her  back.  As  they  seized  her  hands  to 
steady  her,  and  prevent  her  from  injuring  herself 
against  the  seats,  an  invitation  was  given  for 
mourners  to  come  forward ;  and  such  a  rush, 
such  praying,  and  such  singing,  baffle  all  attempt 
at  description.  The  occasion  was  profitable  to 
myself,  and,  I  trust,  notwithstanding  the  exuber- 
ance of  their  annual  feelings,  much  good  was 
done. 


170  SHADOWY  HAND;  on, 

The  Natural  Bridge  of  Virginia  is  situated 
seventeen  miles  from  the  Peaks  of  Otter.  Many 
paintings  and  engravings  have  appeared,  but 
they  express  little  or  nothing  of  the  sublime 
feelings  which  the  overwhelming  grandeur  of 
the  bridge  inspires.  To  fully  appreciate  its 
grandeur,  we  are  obliged  to  stand  in  the  rocky 
bed  of  the  stream  below,  and  there,  like  the 
saint  in  the  dungeon,  we  seem  nearest  heaven 
while  deepest  in  the  vale.  The  sight  from  the 
"Cedar  Stump,"  upon  the  height,  presents  rather 
too  much  of  the  awful  for  common  nerves,  but 
the  magnificent  view  from  below  is  enjoyed  and 
admired  by  all.  The  deep  ravine  beneath  the 
bridge  extends  for  several  miles,  and  can  be 
crossed  only  at  this  place ;  but  strangers  passing 
over  would  not  discover  any  bridge,  unless  pre- 
viously informed  of  it,  as  the  road  has  no  pecu- 
liarities, and  the  valley  is  hid  by  hedges  of  cedar. 

Cedar  Creek,  passing  through  a  limestone  coun- 
try, is  much  reduced  in  the  hot  season,  but  at -other 
seasons  of  the  year  is  much  larger  than  represented 
by  travellers.  It  warbles  down  this  most  delight- 
ful valley,  through  beautiful  openings  and  dense 
thickets,  and  by  steep,  overhanging,  flowery  banks, 
for  about  two  miles,  and  empties  into  the  River 
James.  Here  passengers  leave  the  canal  for  the 
bridge.  Having  witnessed  the  deep  cut  through 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  171 

the  Blue  Ridge  by  the  James,  they  are  prepared 
for  the  extreme  magnificence  which  awaits  them. 
Unlike  the  visitors  of  Niagara,  no  person  is  dis- 
appointed at  first  view,  but  exclaims  :  "  The  halt 
hath  not  been  told  ! " 

Many  have  been  the  flights  and  adventures  up 
and  down  these  stupendous  heights, —  some  safe, 
some  fatal,  some  by  a  car  from  the  top,  some  pre- 
cipitous, some  by  intoxication,  and  some  for  love, 
and  some  for  glory.  About  twenty  years  since, 
Leyburn  Lackland  fell  from  these  heights  while 
in  a  fit  of  intoxication.  He  had  occasionally  drank 
to  excess,  and  upon  the  death  of  a  beautiful, 
engaging,  and  affectionate  wife,  his  intemperance 
knew  no  bounds.  Seeing  her  features  in  the  face 
of  his  lovely  little  child  only  excited  him  to  mad- 
ness at  his  misfortune,  and  he  strove  to  drown  his 
sorrows  in  the  bowl.  In  his  delirium  he  some- 
times declared  that  she  was  not  dead  ;  that  he  saw 
her  pale  image  in  the  room  where  she  had  died, 
bending  over  him  in  his  afflictions,  shedding  upon 
his  face  the  warm,  gushing  tears  of  her  former 
affection,  wiping  the  cold,  clammy  sweat  from  his 
brow,  and  with  gentle  hand  softening  his  thorny 
pillow,  presenting  the  cool,  sparkling  cordial  to 
his  fever-parched  lips,  and  kneeling  in  holy  com- 
munion, with  heaven  by  his  side. 

Again  he  affirmed  it  was  but  a  shadow  which  he 


172  SHADOWT  HAND;  OK, 

saw,  and  her  spirit  which  he  heard.  Her  image 
was  beckoning  him  away  from  the  agonizing  tor- 
tures of  earth,  and  her  spirit  called  him.  Once, 
upon  a  precipice,  he  was  prevented  from  self- 
destruction  by  his  friends.  Once,  while  gazing 
upon  the  bed  of  a  river,  and  seeing  the  phantom 
of  his  wife  inviting  him  beyond  the  wave,  he 
plunged  into  the  bottom  of  the  stream,  and  there, 
while  seizing  the  roots  and  digging  in  the  sand  to 
embrace  his  fancied  companion,  he  was  again  res- 
cued by  his  friends.  But  it  was  with  reluctance 
that  he  yielded  to  their  solicitations.  When  the 
chafing  hand  brought  back  his  answering  spirit 
from  shades  below,  to  take  possession  of  his  mor- 
tal frame  again,  and  when  the  air  touched  his 
vitals,  bringing  nothing  of  life  but  torturing  agony, 
he  shuddered  that  he  was  alive.  He  thought  he 
had  remained  beneath  the  tide  but  a  moment, — 
it  was  a  pleasing  moment. 

Wholly  absorbed  in  his  purpose,  he  felt  no  pain, 
and  thought  of  nothing  but  the  fancied  image 
before  him;  but  now  appears  to  his  swimming 
eyes  a  dark  world,  —  a  world  that  had  given  him 
but  little  pleasure  and  much  pain,  and,  lastly,  rob- 
bed him  of  the  only  object  in  life  worth  having. 
Why  remain  in  it  longer?  In  his  delirium  he 
visited  the  Natural  Bridge.  There  the  same  delu- 
sive phantom  was  before  him  ;  and  though  he  had 


IJFE-STRUQGLES.  173 

been  unkind  to  his  wife,  and  maltreated  her,  yet 
the  same  forgiving,  affectionate,  weeping  woman 
still  clung  to  him,  witnessed  his  tears,  and  called 
him  away.  He  stood  a  few  rods  above  the  bridge, 
where  the  chasm  is  dark,  deep,  and  wide.  The 
stately  trees  from  the  channel  below,  and  the  trees 
and  shrubbery  overhanging  the  banks,  pierced 
by  sunbeams  dancing  upon  the  silver  foliage, 
with  the  almost  unfathomable  abyss,  were  easily 
peopled  with  fanciful  objects  by  an  over-strained 
imagination.  There,  near  the  opposite  bank, 
were  the  face,  the  eye,  the  flowing  locks,  the 
beckoning  hand,  and  the  voice  of  his  heavenly 
consort.  He  thought  not  of  the  depths,  but  the 
object  beyond.  He  thought  not  of  fhe  world 
behind,  nor  cast  a  lingering  look  upon  it,  for  there 
no  object  of  attraction  remained.  The  rays  of 
the  sun  burst  through  the  dense  foliage,  and 
brighter  appears  the  fancied  image ;  and  with 
clasped  hands,  looking  first  upon  heaven,  then 
before  him,  he  leaps  to  the  arms  of  his  spectral 
companion,  and  Leyburn  Lackland  is  no  more ! 

A  deer  was  once  found  dashed  in  pieces  at  the 
base  of  the  bridge  ;  and  once,  on  a  Sabbath,  some 
mischievous  youngsters  threw  a  dog  from  the 
heights,  which  yelped  but  few  times  before  his 
breath  was  gone,  and  soon  he  struck  the  rock 
below  and  parted  asunder.  From  a  family  resid- 


174  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

ing  a  mile  or  two  from  the  bridge,  a  company  of 
visitors  once  purchased  a  cat  for  a  dollar,  for  their 
fiendish  sport.  Each  person  chose  his  position  to 
witness  the  exciting  scene,  and  poor  puss  seemed 
conscious  of  danger,  as  she  bit,  and  scratched,  and 
wauled  hideously,  to  extricate  herself;  but  she  was 
paid  for,  and  had  no  right  to  complain.  Fortu- 
nately, such  a  cat  was  just  the  one  to  take  care  of  her- 
self;  and  finding  herself  obliged  to  go,  she  kept  her 
feet  directly  under,  and,  sounding  no  very  agree- 
able music  as  she  went  down,  struck  splash  into 
the  water ;  and  shaking  off  the  liquid  drops  as 
testimony  against  her  tormentors,  she  scampered 
home,  anxious  to  share  a  part  of  the  proceeds  of 
the  dollar  in  warm  milk.  Puss,  after  this,  became 
an  idol  of  the  neighborhood,  as  being  the  only 
surviving  animal  that  ever  took  a  Sam  Patch  leap 
from  the  Natural  Bridge. 

A  teamster  once  encamped  for  the  night  upon 
the  bridge  ;  and  as  he  commenced  cutting  wood  for 
Ms  camp  fire,  he  felled  a  cedar,  and  felled  it  quite 
a  distance,  —  so  far  that  he  dared  not  follow  it. 
Seeing  it  settling  down  from  him,  and  it  finally  dis- 
appearing in  the  darkness,  he  fled  in  terror  to  the 
nearest  dwelling,  inquiring  what  spiritual  power 
had  mysteriously  robbed  him  of  his  fuel.  Upon 
being  informed  that  he  had  encamped  upon  the 
Natural  Bridge,  and  that  his  cedar-tree  had  prob- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  175 

ably  fallen  several  hundred  feet,  he  congratulated 
himself  that  he  had  not  gone  after  it. 

There  have  been  several  marriages  upon  the 
bridge,  and  many  matches  made  which  have 
resulted  in  subsequent  marriages.  One  party  came 
a  long  distance,  from  a  place  near  Salem,  and  were 
united  in  a  solemn  manner,  witnessed  by  all  nature. 
Nature  was  in  sympathy  with  their  love.  The  sky 
presented  not  the  slightest  speck  of  a  ruffled  cloud  ; 
the  sun  was  warm  in  "its  sympathetic  beams  ;  the 
stream  below  scarce  rippled,  so  anxious  was  it  in 
silence  to  hear  the  ceremony ;  and  the  songsters 
coming  from  their  sylvan  homes,  and  in  silence 
resting  upon  the  floral  tapestry  of  the  bridal  cham- 
ber, mutely  witnessed  the  imposing  union  of  the 
fair  couple,  then  struck  up  their  hymeneal  songs, 
that  stirred  the  air  again,  startled  the  river,  and 
set  all  the  pine-trees  whistling.  Trust  not  in 
the  capricious  freaks  of  Nature  ;  she  is  a  change- 
able dame,  and  often  presents  the  clearest  sky 
before  the  greatest  storm.  The  couple  spoken  of 
were  too  romantically  united,  lived  unhappily,  and 
parted  in  about  six  months.  Another  couple  from 
Rockingham  brought  a  Lutheran  minister  with 
them,  and  were  so  strongly  bound  together  that  it 
would  take  two  worlds  to  separate  them. 


176  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Young  Wallace.  —  Fatal  Fall  from  Natural  Bridge.  —  Daring 
Feat  of  Young  Piper.  —  Incidents.  —  Negroes'  Lineal  De- 
scent. —  Over  Niagara  Falls.  —  Power  of  a  Woman's  Tongue. 
—  Chained  Eagle's  Escape  from  Bondage. 


Wallace,  who  fell  from  the  bridge  in 
July,  1850,  though  somewhat  intoxicated, 
died  with  very  different  feelings  from  Lack- 
land. He  was  of  a  highly  respectable  fam- 
ily, and  would  have  been  their  pride  and  hope, 
were  it  not  for  drink.  On  the  day  before  his  death 
he  had  acted  very  strangely  in  taking  a  bottle  to 
church,  and  desecrating  the  Sabbath  ;  but  the  poor 
man's  sufferings  and  untimely  end  command  our 
commiseration  rather  than  blame.  Truly,  the  way 
of  the  transgressor  is  hard.  Though  afflicted, 
mentally  and  physically,  by  habits  of  dissipation, 
and  forsaken  by  his  friends,  he  loved  life,  and 
clung  to  it  with  desperation.  Besides,  with  a 
mind  beclouded  with  the  fumes  of  alcohol,  he  was 
not  prepared  to  die  ;  and,  being  young  and  vigor- 
ous, might  have  reformed,  and  been  a  blessing  to 
the  world.  It  was  at  nightfall  that  he  wandered 
upon  the  bank  near  where  Lackland  took  his  fatal 
leap.  In  bewilderment,  he  ventured  too  far,  and 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  177 

ionnd  himself  sliding  down  the  declivity.  He 
thought  of  Lackland  !  His  hair  rose,  and  his  heart 
fluttered  with  shocks  of  horror!  He  grasps  a 
shrub,  which  root  by  root  gives  way ;  he  seizes  a 
shelving  rock,  which,  heaving  to  Hud  fro,  now  falls 
from  crag  to  crag,  and  strikes  the  depths  below 
with  deafening  groan.  He  slides  apace,  then  rests 
upon  a  shelving  crag,  breathless,  and  fearful  to 
stir.  His  senses  are  sobered  by  the  shock,  and 
he  calmly  contemplates  his  danger. 

A  lifetime  rolls  by  in  a  moment ;  friends  and 
relatives  appear  in  his  fancy  ;  and,  could  he  once 
more  meet  them,  he  might  pledge  himself  to  a  life 
of  sobriety.  To-morrow  might  find  him  a  changed 
man,  in  principle  and  in  heart.  To-morrow  might 
unite  many  hearts  to  him  which  have  long  been 
estranged.  To-morrow  might  witness  gushing 
tears,  overflowing  from  full  hearts,  of  deep-felt 
gratitude  at  his  unfeigned  repentance  and  noble 
bearing  as  a  Christian.  Can  it  be  that  to-morrow 
shall  witness  him  bruised,  pale,  cold  and  low? 

The  moon  shone  upon  him,  but  not  with  the 
least  glimmer  of  hope.  The  wind  wailed  pit- 
eously  upon  his  ear,  and  all  sounds  were  foreboding. 
With  difficulty  he  has  retained  his  position  thus 
long,  and  now  comes  a  struggle  for  life  or  death. 
Living  a  life  of  excitement,  and  acquainted  with 
danger,  he  cannot  tamely  submit;  and  the  im- 
12 


178  SHADOWY  HAND;   OR, 

petuosity  of  his  strong  passions  rises  with  the  sub- 
limity of  the  scene,  and  redoubled  is  his  effort  as 
life's  last  moment  approaches.  If  these  arms  and 
nerves  must  yield  to  death,  it  shall  be  when  each 
finger  is  worn  to  the  bone,  aud  each  strained  nerve 
exerted  to  its  dying  grasp  !  He  seizes  a  shrub, 
but  retains  only  the  bark  within  his  hand,  and 
slides  with  digging  nails  still  clinging  to  the  repel- 
ling rock,  until  he  arrives  at  the  very  brink.  And 
there  he  can  remain  but  a  momen^,  to  bid  farewell 
to  home,  to  friends,  and  make  his  peace  with 
Heaven  !  Struggling  between  hope  and  despair, 
life  and  death,  his  bleeding,  hooked  fingers  slowly 
yield  their  reluctant  gripe,  his  steel-strung  nerves 
give  way,  his  ghastly  eyes  roll  upon  the  pale  moon, 
his  brain  whirls  round,  he  falls,  and  is  dashed  in 
pieces ! 

So  great  were  the  marks  of  his  struggle  upon 
the  high  bank  —  the  upturned  stones  and  turf,  the 
torn  bark,  and  tearing  away  of  shrubbery  —  that 
his  friends  suspected  that  foul  means  were  used, 
and  ordered  him  to  be  disinterred  and  examined 
several  days  after  his  burial,  to  convince  them 
that  there  was  no  shot  or  ball  lodged  in  his  person. 
A  fine  Temperance  Hall  is  now  erected  within  a 
few  rods  of  the  memorable  place  where  he  fell, 
and  many  a  noble  "Son"  walks  over  the  spot 
with  his  pure  white  regalia,  clear-minded,  upright, 
straightforward,  and  fearless  of  catastrophe. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  179 

Several  persons  have  obtained  notoriety  by 
ascending  the  heights  of  the  bridge.  Much  has  been 
said  of  the  daring  feat  of  young  Piper,  a  student 
from  Lexington,  who  climbed  the  walls  of  the 
bridge  in  1818.  The  exploit  has  furnished  a 
subject  for  many  fictions,  and  given  him  a  sort 
of  immortality  which  he  little  expected. 

Mr.  Piper  is  still  living.  A  most  graphic 
representation  of  an  adventurous  exploit  is  given 
by  Burritt,  entitled  the  "Ambitious  Youth."  The 
youth  witnessed,  far  up  the  heights,  the  name  of 
Washington,  inscribed  there  before  Braddock's 
defeat,  and  became  ambitious  to  place  his  own 
name  as  high  as  that  of  the  Father  of  his 
Country.  By  steady  nerve  and  noble  daring 
he  succeeded  in  engraving  his  name,  in  large 
capitals,  above  that  of  Washington,  and  still  was 
bent  upon  mounting  higher,  and  again  inscribed 
his  name.  With  his  knife  he  cut  notches  in  the 
limestone  rock  for  his  hands  and  feet,  until  he 
had  mounted  so  far  that  the  voice  of  his  com- 
panions could  not  be  heard.  Now  he  becomes 
weary,  his  nerves  relax,  and  his  knife  is  blunted 
and  worn.  For  him  to  return  is  impossible,  and 
the  chance  of  his  mounting  the  heights  improbable. 
His  head  swims,  his  heart  faints,  and  the  wind, 
echoing  through  the  tunnel,  sounds  his  funeral 
knell  I 


180  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

The  sun  is  setting,  and  with  its  falling  beams 
sinks  his  dying  hope.  In  the  midst  of  despair,  he 
hears  a  voice  from  above:  "William,  look  up! 
Mother  and  sister  are  praying  here!"  and  with 
renewed  energy  he  cuts  his  way,  and  mounts 
higher,  until  nature  is  exhausted.  His  knife 
falls ;  his  foot  slips ;  but,  as  his  eyes  roll  ill 
despair  upon  the  gulf,  he  sees  a  noose  rope 
before  him,  and  with  both  hands  united,  balanced 
on  one  foot,  he  thrusts  his  hands  into  the  noose, 
and  hangs  fainting,  dangling  ill  the  air !  He 
wakes, — he  wakes  in  the  cabin  of  his  home! 
Bright  lights  and  bright  faces  are  shining  upon 
him,  and  he  lies  upon  a  downy  bed.  But  at 
the  first  return  of  his  departed  senses,  he  imagines 
himself  still  clinging  with  digging  nails  to  the 
flinty  rock ;  with  his  last  exhausted  grasp  he  sees 
the  horrid  chasm,  and  again  his  heart  is  still. 

He  wakes  again  !  Is  this  a  soft  couch  on  which 
he  lies,  and  no  rocky  bed  of  yonder  chasm  T  Is 
this  the  air  of  earth  he  breathes  ?  Are  these  the 
walls  of  home?  Is  this  a  smiling  sistei's  face, — 
smiling  with  gushing  tears  streaming  down  her 
beauteous  cheeks  with  gratitude  to  Heaven?  Is 
that  a  mother,  weeping,  praying,  blessing  God 
for  the  recovery  of  her  son?  Still  hoping,  still 
doubting,  he  rises  !  He  flies  to  the  arms  of  his 
sister,  and  bathes  his  blushing  cheek  with  sym- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  181 

to 

pathetic  tears  mingling  with  her  own.  After 
many  warm  congratulations  and  happy  greetings 
of  his  numerous  friends,  he  inquires  of  his  success. 
Is  his  name  there?  Is  it  high,  and  intelligible  for 
future  generations  to  read,  respect,  and  applaud? 
Then  he  is  happy,  and  contemplates  with  thrilling 
rapture  his  daring  enterprise.  Knowing  that 
the  glory  of  the  soldier  is  won  at  the  expense  of 
danger,  that  the  most  brilliant  productions  of 
poetical  or  musical  genius  have  emanated  from 
a  sickly  frame,  when  the  spirit  of  life  was  near 
another  world,  he  could  not  expect  the  boon  of 
immortal  renown,  amid  the  competitors  of  the 
present  day,  without  a  struggle,  without  hazard, 
and  the  forfeit  of  almost  life  itself. 

Incidents.  —  Many  persons  have  settled  down 
from  the  bridge  by  a  car  suspended  from  a  wind- 
lass, moved  by  servants  for  that  purpose.  The 
descent  or  ascent  is  most  sublime,  transporting  the 
passenger  into  a  sort  of  new  world  of  feeling, — 
a  spirit  realm.  If  the  grandeur  is  so  overwhelm- 
ing to  the  senses  as  to  cause  fainting,  there  is  no 
danger  of  falling  out  of  the  bucket ;  and  in  these 
artificial  flights,  no  accident  has  ever  occurred. 
During  the  last  war  with  Great  Britain,  the  heights 
of  the  bridge  answered  the  purpose  of  a  shot 
tower.  A  large  cylindrical  tube  of  canvas  extended 
from  the  summit  to  the  bottom  of  the  stream,  dis- 


182  SHADOWY    HAND  ;    OH, 

** 

tended  by  hoops,  and  supported  by  hooks  and 
ropes.  In  time  of  a  great  storm  and  fresht-t,  it 
was  discovered  that  the  lower  part  of  the  appara- 
tus was  in  danger  of  being  swept  away,  and  the 
upper  part  of  the  machinery  was  likely  to  be  drawn, 
with  it.  How  to  unfjisteu  the  lower  part  of  the 
tube  was  the  difficulty.  The  current  was  too  deep 
and  rapid  for  any  to  venture  that  way,  and  to  des 
cend  in  the  tube  required  more  than  common  nerve. 
At  length  a  negro  by  the  name  of  Patrick  Henry 
volunteered  his  services.  He  seized  the  ropes 
within  the  cylinder,  and  descended  gradually  from 
hoop  to  hoop,  and  arrived  safely  at  the  surface  of 
the  foaming  torrent.  Like  his  namesake,  he  could 
descend  to  the  depths  and  soar  to  the  heights  of 
the  sublime  in  human  passion.  The  fastenings 
were  cut  loose,  and  now  comes  another  difficulty : 
Patrick  just  discovers  that  the  wind  sweeps  through 
the  arch, — a  perfect  hurricane.  Scarcely  had  the 
last  cord  yielded,  before  poor  Henry  finds  himself 
unceremoniously  swung  off  more  than  fifty  feet. 
To  and  fro  swings  the  dark  tube,  with  its  darker 
occupant,  now  snapping  and  cracking  with  just 
weight  enough  to  give  it  force,  now  doubling  itself 
up  in  a  whirlwind,  and  now  coming  down  with  an 
impetuous  jerk.  But  Patrick's  fists  are  locked  in 
the  ropes,  and  will  stick  though  the  wind  may 
snap  his  heels  off.  To  the  great  joy  of  his  owner, 


LIFE-STEUGGLES .  183 

nud  not  much  less  to  the  satisfaction  of  himself, 
lie  arrives  safely  upon  the  bridge,  — the  hero  who 
has  stood  where  shots  have  fallen  thickest,  has 
breasted  the  storm,  and  is  the  lineal  son  who  has 
literally  descended  in  direct  line  from  high-blooded 
progenitors. 

AVhile  visiting  Niagara  Falls,  I  obtained  the 
following  account  of  a  man  who  perished  there, 
because,  while  upon  a  rock  above  the  falls,  he 
would  not  lay  hold  of  a  rope  sent  to  him. 

On  a  certain  day  the  whole  village  was  startled 
with  the  announcement  that  a  man  had  floated  to 
a  rock  among  the  rapids  below  the  bridge. 
Immediately  the  bridge  and  the  banks  were 
thronged  with  people.  All  eyes  were  turned 
towards  the  unfortunate  man,  and  all  hearts  yearned 
for  his  rescue.  A  raft  was  constructed  to  float 
towards  him,  but  it  broke  in  pieces,  and  a  boat 
was  sent,  but  it  foundered,  and  yet  another, 
and  another,  but  all  their  efforts  proved  abortive. 
The  mad  tide,  like  demons  that  guard  their 
prey,  dashed  in  pieces  every  craft  that  came 
near.  Only  a  rope  could  be  floated  to  his 
grasp,  but  this  he  was  afraid  to  trust.  It 
was  a  long  distance  to  the  bridge,  and  he  was 
fearful  that  he  could  not  keep  above  the  wave. 
He  refused  it,  and  called  for  more  certain  relief. 
The  sun  was  setting,  all  means  had  failed,  and 


184  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

his  friends  cried  out  to  him  to  lay  hold  of  the 
rope,  for  it  must  be  his  only  hope.  As  he  stood 
trembling,  hesitating,  and  refusing,  his  wife  and 
children  stepped  forward  from  the  crowd,  and 
raised  their  eyes  and  hands  and  voices  to  heaven, 
and  implored  him  to  lay  hold  of  the  rope,  and 
fasten  it  around  him,  and  trust  the  rest  to  God'. 
They  wept,  they  prayed,  they  entreated,  and 
appealed  to  him  by  his  love  for  them,  by  his  desire 
for  life,  and  by  the  counsel  of  all  his  friends,  to 
lay  hold  for  his  life. 

"  Lay  hold  !  lay  hold  ! "  echoed  from  shore  to 
shore,  and  was  repeated  by  more  than  a  thousand 
voices,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  The  man  was 
afraid  to  try.  He  had  rather  run  the  risk  of 
waiting  another  day,  in  hopes  of  better  assistance. 
He  waited,  but  gained  nothing,  and  lost  his  life. 
His  fingers  had  become  too  benumbed  to  tie 
the  rope,  and  his  arms,  too  weak  to  keep  above 
the  wave.  He  had  waited' too  long ;  but  with  his 
chilled,  stiff  fingers  he  made  an  effort,  —  alas  !  it 
was  too  late.  His  rattling,  bony  fingers  struck 
numbly  against  the  rope,  but  he  could  not  grasp 
it,  and  he  could  not  tie  it  around  him.  He 
struggled  desperately  to  call  back,  by  exertion, 
life  and  heat  to  his  frame,  but  all  in  vain.  His 
foot  slipped,  his  hand  failed,  and  the  tide  bore 
him  down.  But  the  shock  started  his  blood  and 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  185 

* 

heat  again,  and  for  some  time  he  kept  above  the 
wave. 

Oh,  the  shrieks  that  rent  the  air  when  the 
spectators  saw  him  driven  from  the  rocs !  Oh, 
the  wails  of  that  wife,  and  the  shrieks  of  those 
children  !  **  He  is  gone  I  he  is  gone  I  my  father, 
oh,  my  father !  "  And  the  poor  dying  man,  now 
beneath  and  now  above  the  wave,  when  coming 
near  the  brink,  as  if  to  bid  them  farewell,  sprung 
with  more  than  half  his  length  above  the  tide, 
and  with  arms  extended,  sunk  for  the  last  time, 
and  rolled  down  the  tide  to  eternity. 

In  Virginia 'I  learned  the  story  of  a  young 
wife  who  had  been  unfortunate  in  her  choice  of 
a  husband,  and  had  married  a  spitfire  of  a  man. 
Her  only  hope  now  was  in  speaking  kind  words  ; 
so  she  made  it  a  study,  and  practised  upon  the 
art,  as  a  musician  would,  to  catch  the  tune.  When 
she  found  the  right  word  touched  his  ear,  and  his 
surly  countenance  lighted  up,  she  would  pour 
into  it  more  of  the  same  kind  of  music.  At  last 
she  took  lessons  at  a  singing-school  for  the  sole, 
purpose  of  singing  him  down  when  cross ;  and 
sure  enough,  when  coming  in,  blustering  and 
storming  with  rage,  to  be  met  with  nothing  but 
sunshine  in  her  smiles,  with  laughing  eyes,  looking 
loveliness,  and  sudden  burst  of  a  romantic  song, 
was  a  new  mode  of  warfare,  which  took  the  wind 


186  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

1 

all  out  of  his  sails,  and  left  him  to  sport  with  the 
breeze  of  his  own  folly.  He  could  not  stand  such 
an  attack, — he  must  either  yield  or  run;  and, 
by  the  kind  words  of  that  wife,  the  lion  has 
become  a  lamb,  and  is  now  a  devoted  follower  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

The  Chained  Eagle. — "When  travelling,  I 
obtained  from  an  old  hunter  the  following  eagle 
story,  and  related  it  in  a  religious  meeting  :  He 
had  caught  and  caged  a  large  and  noble-spirited 
eagle,  but  had  not  retained  it  long  before  it  began 
to  sicken  and  droop.  Its  lofty  spirit  was  broken, 
its  wings  dropped,  and  its  towering  head  sunk 
towards  the  earth.  The  hunter  saw  that  unless 
the  bird  had  more  liberty  it  must  die.  He  there- 
fore fastened  it  with  a  line  to  the  cage,  and  gave 
it  a  circuit  of  several  rods  for  action.  The  liberty- 
loving  bird  immediately  spread  its  wings  to  mount 
upward.  But  it  had  scarcely  got  under  way, 
before  reaching  the  full  length  of  its  chain,  down 
it  fell.  Again  and  again  it  tried,  but  with  no 
better  success.  Finally,  its  courage  was  gon», 
it  made  no  more  efforts  to  escape,  and  spent  the 
livelong  day  in  biting  its  chains.  It  now  refused 
to  eat,  its  feathers  were  untidy,  its  wings  dragged 
upon  the  ground,  its  neck  was  bent  in  dejection, 
and  its  eagle  eye  lost  its  lustre.  At  length,  on  a 
bright  sunny  morning,  while  pining  over  its  bond- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  187 

age,  it  heard  the  voice  of  its  companion  shrieking 
from  a  mountain  crag  over  its  head.  Old  associa- 
tions came  with  the  sound,  and  roused  its  spirit. 
Jt  began  to  adjust  its  feathers,  raise  its  head,  and 
look  on  high.  Again,  and  louder,  came  the  wild 
shriek  of  its  companion,  when  the  fettered  bird 
stood  erect,  flashed  its  eye,  spread  its  wings, 
darted  upward  to  the  length  of  the  chain,  and 
with  mighty  struggles  of  new-born  Freedom  assert- 
ing her  right,  burst  its  fetters,  and,  rising  far 
above  the  mark  of  rifle  or  the  ken  of  man,  flew 
away  to  meet  its  royal  mate  in  the  radiant  sky 
of  heaven. 

Sinner !  this  is  thy  case.  Thou  art  chained, 
pining  under  bonds  of  sin,  and  thy  spirit  refuses 
to  be  comforted.  Now  by  breaking  off  some 
evil  habit,  thou  hast  freed  thyself  a  little,  but 
though  out  of  the  cage,  thou  art  still  fettered. 
No  good  works  will  save  thee,  all  the  powers  of 
earth  cannot  get  thee  free.  Without  the  Spirit 
you  may  vainly  struggle  for  a  lifetime.  Man 
may  make  a  bird,  and  give  it  eyes  and  feathers 
und  wings,  but  he  can  never  make  one  that  can 
breathe  or  fly.  Thine  own  works  cannot  raise 
thee  to  heaven.  The  Spirit  from  a  higher  source 
must  nerve  the  wings  of  thy  faith ;  the  Spirit 
must  make  thee  free.  I  see  thee  pining  under 
thy  chains,  and  striving  to  break  the  fetters  of 


SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

habit  by  thine  own  strength.  Thou  hast  advanced 
a  little,  like  the  eagle  to  the  length  of  his  chain, 
but  canst  go  no  further.  Despair  is  upon  thee. 
Hark!  the  voice  of  thy  companion,  —  the  Com- 
forter from  the  rock  above  thee  !  "  A  rock  that  is 
higher  than  I."  Hark  !  it  is  Jesus  !  "  Come  up 
hither !  "  he  cries.  "  The  Spirit  and  the  bride  say, 
Come  ;  and  whosoever  will,  let  him  come ;  come  up 
hither,  come  up  hither."  Oh,  sinner  !  plume  thy 
wing  for  glory  !  Brighten  thy  dim  eye  of  faith,  and 
look  at  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  !  Now  hear  the 
"  voice  of  thy  beloved  leaping  upon  the  mountains. 
He  looketh  forth  at  the  windows,  showing  himself 
through  the  lattice ! "  Now  raise  thy  drooping 
head  of  despair !  Strike  thy  fettered  feet  upon 
the  Rock  of  Ages !  Now  burst  the  last  bonds 
that  bind  thee !  Now,  with  thine  eagle  eye  of 
faith  brightening  for  glory,  thine  ear  open  to  the 
voice  above  thee,  thy  feet  bending  to  leap, 
thy  wings  spread  for  flight,  now !  now  1  now ! 
strike  thy  pinions,  and  upon  the  gcjlden  wing  of 
Faith,  as  a  bird  of  hope  soaring  towards  the 
land  of  promise,  mounting  above  the  confines  of 
earth  —  above  its  clouds,  its  darkness  and  its 
storms,  fur  up,  beneath  the  radiant  smiles  of  thy 
Redeemer  —  there  settle  thy  weary  feet  upon 
the  ever-enduring  promises  of  God  I 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  189 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

Negro  Preaching.  —  "Glory!  glory!  we  is  all  a  comin'."  — 
Lively  Congregation.  — "Higher  !  higher  !  O,  Lord-a-massy, 
I  can't  go  no  f udder  ! "  —  "  Call  her  children." — Baltimore. 

a  bright  Sabbath  morning,  in  Augusta,  1 
beheld  a  company  of  colored  people  mak- 
ing their  way  for  Zion's  Church.  I  decided 
to  witness  the  free  worship  of  a  congre- 
gation of  slaves ;  for  in  the  States  further  north, 
in  Virginia  and  the  Carolinas,  slaves  were  not 
allowed  to  preach  or  conduct  meetings  for  them- 
selves. I  entered,  and  found  a  seat.  The  whole 
congregation  were  united  in  praising  their  Maker, 
with  a  spirit  and  pathos  that  told  they  meant 
and  felt  what  they  sang.  The  preacher  absorbed 
our  every  attention.  In  hearing  that  man  preach 
and  pray  I  felt  my  littleness  as  a  public  speaker. 
I  had  heard  the  great  models  of  eloquence,  studied 
the  chief  masters,  and  listened  to  the  professed 
elocutionist  in  training  his  disciples,  but  all  seemed 
mockery  before  this  unlettered  African.  What- 
ever education  might  have  added  to  the  finish  of, 
or  diminished  from  the  force  of,  his  oratorical 
powers,  is  not  for  me  to  say ;  but  he  seemed  at 
this  time  a  man  for  the  occasion.  He  had  buried 


190  SHADOWY  HAND;  on, 

a  member  of  his  congregation  a  few  days  before. 
Her  Christian  experience,  as  related  by  him,  was 
very  superior,  and  his  grief  on  her  account  was 
excessive.  He  chose  heaven  as  a  theme  for  his 
discourse.  It  is  said  that  "  there  is  but  one  step 
from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  "  ;  and  I  almost 
fear  to  record  many  of  his  pithy  and  pathetic 
expressions  on  this  account.  Although  none  of 
the  audience,  not  even  strangers  who  came  out  of 
curiosity,  could  resist  the  torrent  of  his  eloquence, 
yet  his  words  upon  paper,  without  the  force  of  his 
voice  and  gestures,  could  convey  no  adequate  idea 
of  the  man.  To  appreciate  his  language  at  all, 
we  must  imagine  an  audience  familiar  with  his 
brogue,  having  the  utmost  confidence  in  his  piety  ; 
and  by  the  power  of  his  prayer,  the  melody  of 
their  singing,  and  the  bereavement  which  they  had 
suffered,  excited  to  the  highest  pitch  of  expec- 
tation, and  who  now,  even  if  they  perceived  them, 
overlooked  all  imperfections.  He  chose  Rev.  xxi. 
1.  "And  I  saw  a  new  heaven,"  etc.  Said  he, 
—  "De  language  wid  which  we  describe  heaben 
must  be  figertib.  Heaben  is  rest.  Dar  de  wicked 
cease  from  troubling,  and  dar  de  weaiy  be  at  rest. 
Dar  de  saints  rest  from  dar  labors  and  dar  works 
do  faller  clem.  Oh,  de  sweet  comforts  ob  rest ! 
See  dat  weary  man  comin  home  from  his  work. 
He  haf  toiled  all  de  day  long,  from  de  dawn  ob  do 


LIFE-STRUGGLES .  191 

mornin  till  dark.  His  skin  be  burned  and  blis- 
tered and  baked  till  it  be  like  de  skin  ob  de  ele- 
phant. Do  sweat  haf  poured  off  from  him  till  dar 
be  no  more  sweat  in  him.  His  bones  be  so  achin 
as  if  a  hot  iron  was  r,unnin  frew  de  marrow ;  and 
his  legs  am  so  tired  dat  one  ob  dem  will  scarce 
foller  tudder.  Him  seemed  to  nebber  get  home. 
His  eyes  am  red  as  sundown  ;  and  his  head,  oh,  de 
achiu  head  !  See  him  comin  all  dizzy  and  faintin 
to  de  cabin  door.  Den  he  smell  do  good  meat  dat 
massa  gib  him,  cause  he  work  so  hard,  and  him 
begin  to  feel  better.  And  when  he  haf  eat  all  de 
good  meat  and  drinked  all  de  good  coffee  wid  de 
sugar  in  it,  den  he  bless  God  for  all  dese  good 
tings,  bless  God  he  hab  so  good  a  massa,  bless 
God  for  de  children,  and  he  lie  down  to  sleep. 
Oh,  how  sweet  be  de  sleep  '  how  soft  be  de  bed  I 
It  seem  like  de  bed  ob  roees  ! 

"And  now  he  dream  of  heaben.     De  ansrels 

O 

seem  waitiu  to  carry  him  home  as  da  did  poor 
Lazarus  ;  and  da  sing  de  music  of  de  upper  world. 
In  heaben  de  work  be  all  done,  and  dar  de  weary 
be  at  rest.  Dat  sister  dat  died  so  happy  last  Sun- 
day, she  rest  in  heaben.  She  was  so  happy  to 
tink  she  was  goin  home.  She  saw  de  angels  a 
waitin,  and  she  saw  little  Nelly,  way  ober  de  rib- 
ber,  on  tudder  side  ob  Jordan.  And  she  see  de 
gates  ob  pearl,  and  de  walls  of  jasper  stone,  clear 


192  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

as  crystal.  And  ober  de  gate  was  de  watchman, 
wid  a  harp  and  a  crown  in  his  hand. .  And  he 
cried  with  a  loud  voice, f  Blessed  be  de  dead  dat  die 
in  de  Lord,  —  come  up  bidder,  come  up  bidder  !"' 

Floods  of  tears  gushed  forth,  both  from  the 
preacher's  eyes  and  those  of  the  congregation ; 
and  the  loud  responses  of  "  Amen  !  "  and  "  Glory 
to  God  ! "  even  before  he  had  arrived  at  the  part- 
ing scene,  had  encouraged  him  to  put  forth  every 
effort,  for  he  knew  he  had  touched  the  right  string. 
Therefore,  for  the  time  being,  he  was  apparently 
lost  in  his  subject,  cutting  away  from  all  forms,  all 
order,  floating  on  a  billowy  sea  of  excitement,  yet 
secretly  holding  the  rudder,  that  the  passion 
might  land  at  the  right  spot.  In  conversing  with 
the  dying,  the  image  appeared  before  him ;  and  as 
he  bent  over  it,  and  as  he  spoke  with  it  and 
received  answers,  his  hearers  were  all  agape,  and 
bending  over  with  him,  drinking  in  his  passion, 
anticipating  his  thoughts,  and  mouthing  his  words. 
And  when  he  said,  "  I  is  goin,  I  is  goin  !  "  with  his 
brawny  arms  extended  towards  heaven,  there 
seemed,  in  sympathy  with  the  speaker,  a  general 
aspiration  of  the  audience  to  spread  the  wing  and 
mount  upward.  But,  "What  shall  I  tell  Jesus?" 
was  original  to  me. 

"  Oh,"  cried  the  speaker,  making  motions  at  the 
same  time,  as  if  seizing  a  pen,  "oh,  dat  I  knew 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  193 

how  to  write  !  I  would  send  an  epistle  to  Jesus  I 
What  shall  I  tell  Jesus?  I'll  tell  him  we  is  all  a 
comin  !  " 

And  "  glory  ! "  "  glory  !  "  "  glory  ! "  sounded  all 
over  the  house. 

He  resumed  :  "  Dis  rest  be  not  only  a  rest  from 
labor,  but  a  rest  from  sorrow.  De  Rebelator  say, 
God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  deir  eyes,  and 
dar  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  any  sorrow. 
Oh,  my  bredren,  afflictions  be  de  lot  ob  man  I 
Man  dat  is  bom  ob  a  woman  is  ob  few  days  and 
full  ob  trouble.  He  lie  in  his  bed  to-day,  and  he 
lie  in  his  tomb  to-morrow ;  den  de  mourners  go 
about  de  streets,  and  de  stars,  de  eyes  ob  heaben, 
weep  in  dewy  tear-drops  ober  de  sacred  dust.  Da 
peep  like  nail-heads  frew  de  pall  dat  shrouds  de 
world,  and  de  waning  moon  be  de  coffin's  handle. 
And  de  winds  moan  in  wailing  sorrow.  And  de 
night  is  but  de  mantle  for  de  dead.  De  clouds 
be  de  messengers  ob  mourning,  and  de  tunder- 
souud  de  requiem.  And  old  mudder  Nature  drops 
her  leabes,  and  lay  her  bosom  bare  to  de  chills  ob 
winter,  when  she  tink  ob  her  poor,  dying  chil- 
dren. Look  down  dar  where  so  many  were  buried 
last  fall.  Oh,  how  de  people  did  run  to  git  away 
from  de  plague  !  But  de  black  wing  of  de  angel 
would  chase  dem  eben  to  de  woods,  and  dar  da 
would  die.  But,  bressed  be  God  !  dar  be  no  deff 
13 


194  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

in  heaben,  neither  sorrow.  Dar  dis  heart  hab 
beat  de  last  achin  pang,  dar  dis  bosom  hab  heabed 
de  last  sigh,  dar  dis  eye  hab  shed  de  last  tear, 
and  dar  be  no  more  partin  wid  kind  friends. 

" De  next  figure  ob  heaben  is  home!  HOME! 
Sweet,  sweet  home  !  When  de  servant  come  home 
from  de  cotton  field,  or  de  turpentine  woods,  after 
bein  gone  a  whole  year,  how  sweet  to  see  de  houses 
and  de  cabins  as  he  first  come  in  town  !  How 
sweet  be  de  faces  as  he  come  up  to  de  depot ! 
How  sweet  be  de  boices  as  da  say,  f  He's  come  ! 
he's  come ! '  Dar  be  de  wife  and  de  children 
waitin,  and  dar  de  massa  lookin  smilin  cause  his 
servant  got  home.  And  so  in  heaben  dar  our 
friends  be  a  waitin.  Oh,  Peggy  I  dar  I  see  de  in 
de  new  white  robe,  standin  at  de  depot  ob  immor- 
tality, wid  palms  in  di  hands,  waitin  for  us  poor 
weepin  mortals  to  come  home.  I  see  de  in  de 
dreams  of  de  night.  I  hear  di  boice  foller  me  in 
de  day-time ;  I  see  di  tears  weepin  in  de  cup 
where  I  drink ;  I  feel  de  wing  ob  di  spirit  brush 
my  cheek  when  I  pray.  Oh,  Peggy  !  we  is  all  a 
comin  home  ;  tell  Massa  Jesus  we  is  all  a  comin. 

"Now,  my  bredren,  ye  may  hab  heaben  in  dis 
world.  By  faif.we  may  be  carried  to  the  beatitude 
ob  heaben.  Den  it  is  dat  we  pant  like  de  little  bird 
in  de  nest,  when  him  see  his  mudder  go  upward. 
And  what  be  dat  pantin  ?  It  be  de  Spirit  ob  God 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  195 

inditin  our  petitions.  And  de  Spirit  now  inter- 
cedef  wid  groanings  dat  cannot  be  uttered. 
(Sensation.)  Now  we  shut  our  eyes,  and  .trust 
God  for  de  rest.  And  de  moment  we  let  go  ob 
de  world,  and  walk  by  faif  and  not  by  sight,  do 
at  first  it  seem  dark,  and  we  tremble  as  we  feel 
round  for  help,  yet  dat  moment  de  light  come  into 
de  soul.  We  tremble  like  de  ship  anchored  in  de 
dark  when  we  first  pull  on  de  cable  ;  den  see  de 
light  dance  on  de  crest  ob  de  wabe.  Dis  cable  be 
faif,  when  it  pulls  us  up  to  de  windard,  towards 
de  anchor  ob  hope.  We  tremble  as  doff'  de  bal- 
loon when  it  rise  a  little,  den  sink,  den  rise,  den 
find  it  to  be  tied  down.  But  when  we  no  care 
whidder  we  go  if  we  only  go  upward,  we  cut  loose 
from  de  houses,  de  cabins,  and  de  friendship  ob 
earth,  and  feelin  dem  all  sinkin  beneaf  our  feet, 
we  know  not  whedder  we  be  in  the  body  or  out ;  de 
heart  stop  hims  beating,  de  brain  stop  hims  tinkm, 
and  de  sight  be  gone,  all  be  gone  but  de  feelin ; 
den  we  feel  de  breaf  ob  earth  strike  de  cheek  as  it 
pass  by ;  den  we  be  abobe  de  trees  and  de  moun- 
tains, abobe  where  de  birds  sing  in  de  sky,  abobe  de 
cloud, ruimin,  leapm,  sailin,  flyin,  onward,  upward  ! 
upward!  UPWARD  ! !  HIGHER  ! !  HIGHER  ! !  0 
Lord-a-massy ,  I  can't  go  no  f adder!" 

Reader !  do  not  laugh,  but  imagine  the  state  of 
the   audience, —  at  this   time  in  a  paroxysm  of 


196  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

ecstacy ;  all  hanging  breathlessly  upon  the  speak- 
er's lips ;  all  moved  at  his  will,  seeming,  with  faces 
turned  upward,  to  step  as  he  stepped,  and  mount 
hand  over  hand  as  he  mounted.  His  feet  moved  as 
if  on  a  treadmill,  and  his  hands,  swift  as  wings 
beating  the  air,  indicated  a  rapid  ascent,  until 
above  the  birds,  above  the  clouds  he  went,  bearing 
his  audience  with  him, —  onward  !  upward  !  high- 
er !  higher !  Few  orators  could  calm  down  an 
audience  so  suddenly,  and  but  few  assemblies 
could  bear  the  transition.  But  to  him,  and  to 
them,  aH  seemed  natural ;  and  when  he  came  to 
the  climax  of  excitement,  having  said  the  last  word 
and  made  the  last  exertion,  with  one  hand  point- 
ing as  far  towards  heaven  as  he  possibly  could 
reach,  he  gave  a  leap  upward  with  all  his  might, 
and  expressed  his  inability  to  advance.  Faith 
seemed  to  step  in  where  the  mortal  failed,  and, 
catching  the  flagging  wing  of  human  passion,  bore 
the  soul-enraptured  audience  to  the  ecstatic  regions 
of  enchantment.  That  day's  lesson  in  pulpit 
oratory  is  ever  memorable.  There  were  imper- 
fections in  it,  but  these  I  could  lay  aside.  Yet  to 
this  day  I  have  never  dared  to  preach  from  that 
text,  lest  I  should  mar  the  beauty  of  the  impres- 
sion I  then  received. 

I  made  use  of  the  following  illustration  and  ap- 
peal, while  addressing  a  Southern  audience  about 
this  time. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  197 

When  Alexander  had  conquered  nearly  all 
Asia,  he  came  to  one  fortress  which  seemed 
impregnable.  It  was  a  high  rock,  called  Petra 
Oxiana,  accessible  by  a  single  path  only,  which 
had  been  cut  through  it,  and  defended  by  thirty 
thousand  men.  Arimazes,  the  commander,  on 
being  ordered  to  capitulate,  haughtily  replied, 
"If  Alexander  had  wings  he  might  corne  and  take 
the  fortress."  Alexander  was  highly  exasperated 
at  this  insolent  answer,  and  calling  three  hundred 
of  the  most  dexterous  of  his  young  men,  men  who 
had  been  schooled  on  mountain  crags,  he  bade 
them  climb  on  the  opposite  side,  and  wave  a 
signal  when  they  should  arrive  back  of  the 
fortress.  An  immense  reward  was  offered  to 
each,  and  the  twelve  first  ascending  were  to  have 
treasures  that  would  make  rich  a  king.  And  a 
greater  incentive  was,  that  they  were  to  be 
continually  under  the  eye  of  their  commander. 
Alexander  dismissed  them,  and  ordered  them  to 
beseech  the  gods  for  protection  They  spent  one 
day  and  two  nights  in  climbing  amid  the  winds 
and  snow,  with  wedges,  cramp  irons,  and  ropes 
which  answered  for  scaling  ladders,  and  after 
seeing  thirty  of  their  companions  dashed  in  pieces, 
the  others,  on  the  second  morning,  unfurled  a 
white  flag  at  the  top  of  the  rock.  Alexander 
never  watched  a  battle  with  more  interest  than 


198  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

he  saw  those  brave  young  men  toil  up  the  ascent. 
All  the  day  long  he  gazed  upoii  them,  and  when 
the  next  daylight  came,  he  was  first  to  see  the 
signal.  Arimazes  was  then  summoned  to  surren- 
der ;  but  he  replied  more  insolently  than  before. 
He  was  then  ordered  to  look  upon  the  rock 
behind  him,  and  see  that  Alexander's  soldiers 
had  wings.  At  this  moment  they  waved  their 
flags,  and  shouted,  and  from  the  army  below 
the  trumpet  sounded,  shout  answering  to  shout; 
and  so  astounding  were  the  noise  and  confusion, 
that  the  barbarians,  not  observing  whether  there 
were  few  or  many  behind  them  upon  the  rock, 
at  once  surrendered.  Young  Christian  warrior ! 
behold  in  this  thy  upward  course.  Thou  hast 
enlisted  under  a  Captain  greater  than  Alex- 
ander. 

Call  her  Children.  —  A  mother  at  Baltimore, 
being  aroused  at  midnight,  finding  her  house  on 
fire,  flew  to  the  rescue  of  her  children.  Above  the 
crackling  of  the  flames  she  heard  the  cry,  K  Mam- 
ma !  mamma !  fire  I  fire !  Willie  burn  I  Willie 
die ! " 

She  mounted  the  stairway,  dashed  open  the  door, 
and  started  to  plunge  in;  but  suffocated  by  the 
smoke,  she  reeled  backwards  and  fell  down  stairs. 
She  rose  again,  and  seeing  the  maddening  flame 
at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  as  a  fiery  sword  between 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  199 

her  and  her  darlings,  and  still  hearing  their  cry 
above  the  roaring  flame,  she  started,  all  frantic,  to 
leap  into  the  choking  flame,  but  fell  stifled  to  the 
floor.  A  stream  from  the  engine  brought  her  to 
her  senses,  and  the  firemen  bore  her  to  the  street. 
But  when  she  heard  the  crash  of  the  falling  build- 
ing, and  thought  of  her  children,  she  swooned 
and  fell  into  a  fit,  from  which  there  seemed  no  hope 
of  recovery.  Once  or  twice  her  nerves  twitched, 
her  lips  muttered,  her  eyes  glared,  her  teeth  grated, 
and  nature  rallied  for  a  moment,  but  with  a  deep 
shudder  she  sunk  into  shades  of  forgetfulness 
again. 

Hours  passed  by ;  she  knew  not  her  friends,  nor 
time,  nor  sweet  cordial.  Once  she  suddenly 
stretched  out  her  hands,  and  cried,  "  Fire  !  fire  I " 
but  stopped  as  one  dead.  Life  now  appeared 
extinct.  Many  gathered  round,  weeping  as  for 
one  departed.  By  chance  a  child  prattled  in  the 
room.  The  sound  struck  her  ear  as  a  voice  from 
heaven.  Suddenly  her  fingers  moved,  her  pulse 
beat,  a  flash  lighted  her  features,  and  a  ghastly 
smile ;  but  it  seemed  like  the  last  gasp  of  the 
dying,  and  she  became  unconscious  again. 

"  Call  her  children,"  was  the  cry  of  the  by-stand- 
ers.  And  forthwith  the  children  were  seated  upon 
her  bed,  but  she  was  too  far  gone  to  heed  them. 
At  last  her  dearest  one  —  if  a  mother  can  have 


200  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

one  dearer  than  another  —  climbed  up  farther 
towards  her  head,  and  placing  his  lips  close  to  her 
ear,  he  cried,  "  Mamma !  wake  up  !  Willie  live  ! 
Willie  live  !  "  And,  as  if  touched  by  an  electric 
spring,  her  eyes  opened,  she  gazed  upward  in 
vacancy,  and  muttered  some  incongruous  sounds,  as 
if  talking  with  spirits  from  another  world.  For  a 
moment  she  gazed,  then  closed  her  eyes  again.  The 
three  children  now  assembled  close  to  her  head,  and 
commenced  singing.  The  music  roused  her  senses 
and  called  back  her  wandering  spirit,  and  with 
rapture  she  arose  and  embraced  her  children,  with 
all  the  heaven-born  tenderness  of  a  mother's  love , 
There  is  a  moral  in  this.  If  a  mother's  sym- 
pathies for  the  cause  of  temperance  and  humanity 
have  become  dormant,  and  she  >hath  lost  her  inter- 
est, then  "call  her  children."  See  if  their  dan- 
ger, their  exposure  to  temptation,  will  not  stir  a 
mother's  blood.  "Call  her  children"  to  that 
mother  who  is  despairing  in  poverty,  and  can  find 
no  work,  and  see  if  ways  and  means  will  not  be 
opened,  and  new  energies  awakened.  "  Call  her 
children  "  to  that  dying  mother,  if  you  would  win 
a  smile  with  which  to  bless  the  world  in  her  dying 
moments.  "  Call  her  children  "  to  that  lifeless 
church  whose  heart-throbbings  are  apparently, 
dead  to  all  vital  godliness.  Let  every  woman  and 
child  raise  their  voices,  and  see  if  they  do  not 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  201 

awaken  an  interest  in  the  church,  a  music  on  many 
a  cottage  floor,  that  shall  ring  from  heart  to  heart, 
and  house  to  house,  far  above  the  wails  of  sorrow, 
as  the  voice  of  many  waters.  "Call  her  children," 
then,  and  the  church  shall  rise  and  put  on  her  beau- 
tiful garments,  and  shall  be  as  the  "voice  of  my 
beloved  leaping  upon  the  mountains,  and  as  the 
rose  of  Sharon,  and  the  lily,  of  the  valleys." 


202  SHADOWY  HAND;   OR, 


CHAPTER    XX. 

Return  from  the  South.  —  Sick  at  Harrisburg,  Pa.  —  Carried 
Home  to  Newtown,  Conn.  —  Recovery.  —  Resolved  to 
Preach.  —  Opposition.  —  Quarterly  Conference  at  Stepney. 
—  License  Refused.  —  Mother's  Grief.  —  My  Night  of 
"Unrest. 

returning  from  the  South  with  the  paint- 
ings before  which  I  was  lecturing,  I  stop- 
ped in  Harrisburg,  Pennsylvania,  where  I 
was  taken  down  with  the  measles.  Going 
out  too  soon,  I  contracted  a  cold  which  settled 
upon  my  lungs.  I  was  brought  to  my  home  in 
Newtown,  Conn.  I  arrived  there  after  midnight, 
having  hired  a  sleigh  to  bring  me  from  Bethel 
Depot,  which  was  four  miles  away.  I  feared,  if 
I  tarried  all  night,  I  might  never  again  see  my 
home.  My  mother,  on  seeing  me  arrive  a  mere 
shadow  'of  my  former  self,  pale  and  trembling, 
was  struck  dumb  with  astonishment.  She  had 
learned  of  my  illness,  but  was  not  prepared  to  see 
me  so  near  the  grave.  On  recovering  from  her 
surprise,  she  immediately  sent  for  a  physician. 
I  was  under  his  care  several  months,  and  finally 
recovered. 

Sickness  had  given  me  time  for  reflection,  sub- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  203 

dued  my  spirit,  and  made  me  more  inclined  to 
preach  the  gospel.  My  mother  had  upbraided  me 
for  lecturing  for  money,  and  thought  this  an  inter- 
vention of  Providence.  The  money,  however, 
was  of  great  service  to  me,  and  all  of  it  was  to  be 
devoted  to  God  and  humanity. 

I  resolved  to  preach.  I  handed  my  letter  into 
Sandy  Hook  Church,  Newtown,  Conn.,  as  my 
mother  and  my  uncle  belonged  to  that  church. 
The  church  had  been  removed  from  the  centre 
down  to  Sandy  Hook,  through  the  instigation  of 
one  man,  a  hatter,  and  placed  by  the  side  of  his 
hat-shop.  He  was  church  leader.  The  member- 
ship was  small,  and  poor.  The  Quarterly  Con- 
ference was  composed  of  three  churches :  Sandy 
Hook,  Stepney,  and  East  Village.  I  preached  as 
a  candidate  in  all  these  churches,  and  held  meet- 
ings at  various  school-houses  during  the  week, 
and  at  the  almshouse.  At  the  latter  place,  con- 
siderable interest  was  apparent ;  many  of  the 
inmates  hobbled  along  several  miles  to  the  church, 
to  hear  my  trial  sermon.  A  colored  man  was  also 
of  great  help  to  me ;  he  rode  in  my  carriage  to 
the  poor-house,  attended  all  my  meetings,  and  his 
wife  gave  me  twenty-five  cents  as  her  contribu- 
tion, which  was  the  only  money  I  received  for  four 
months'  service.  I  often  travelled  seven  milea 
after  a  meeting,  through  woods  and  damp  swamps, 


204  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

to  get  to  my  home,  exhausted,  and  exposing  my 
health. 

At  the  trial  sermon  in  Sandy  Hook,  the  house 
was  crowded.  The  audience  was  not  generally  of  a 
literary  character.  One  man  professed,  however, 
to  be  a  profound  thinker ;  that  was  the  hatter. 
He  had  been  an  exhorter,  failed  in  that,  failed  in 
his  business,  got  the  church  under  his  control,  failed 
to  make  it  a  success.  He  was  envious  of  the 
crowd,  and  sneered  at  the  character  of  the  audience. 
He  didn't  waut  a  church  filled  with  paupers. 

As  I  had  credentials  from  all  parts  of  the 
country  —  from  ministers,  from  newspapers,  and 
public  men  —  had  labored  among  the  poor  and 
prisoners  for  years  without  reward, —  was  already 
designated  as  the  "Poor  Man's  Preacher,  and 
Prisoner's  Friend,"  I  had  not  the  slightest  doubt 
of  being  licensed  to  preach. 

The  Conference  met  at  Stepney.  As  I  arrived 
at  the  church,  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  the  hat- 
ter, with  his  "  Man  Friday,"  who  was  given  office 
because  he  had  a  little  money  (almost  the  only  one 
that  had  any) ,  had  come  down  several  hours  pre- 
vious, to  prejudice  the  Conference  against  me. 
.  Conference  Opened.  — "  Do  you  feel  yourself 
called  to  the  ministry  ?  " 

"I  do." 

"Are  you  willing  to  devote  yourself  entirely 
to  the  work  of  God?" 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  205 

*Iam." 

"Do  you  believe  in  the  doctrines  of  our 
Church?" 

"I  do." 

"  Give  us  a  sketch  of  your  religious  experience." 

I  did. 

Here  came  a  question  that  startled  me. 

"  Will  you  submit  to  Church  rule  if  you  are 
not  licensed?" 

I  saw  in  this  a  plot  to  defeat  me,  and  became 
a  little  nervous.  But  I  answered,  "I  will." 

Now  for  my  talent,  my  preaching  talent,  the 
Elder  said,  "  Brethren,  speak." 

I  was  requested,  at  this  point,  to  withdraw,  but 
my  uncle  remained  to  listen.  The  hatter  arose  with 
great  solemnity,  and  said  he  had  heard  the  candi- 
date preach  several  times ;  he  must  say,  he  did 
not  think  he  had  talent  for  preaching.  He  might 
lecture,  might  draw  a  crowd,  might  make  them 
weep,  might  impress  their  minds,  even  get  them 
converted ;  but  he  could  not  present  a  sermon. 
He  was  neither  alphabetical  nor  exegetical!  He 
was  not  alphabetical  in  his  arrangements,  had  no 
firstly  nor  secondly.  He  was  not  exegetical  in 
his  treatment  of  the  text.  And  his  "  Man  Friday  " 
thought  the  same,  —  I  was  neither  "alphabetical 
nor  exegetical." 

The  hatter  continued  to  say  I  was  more  "  topical 


206  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

than  textual"  that  is,  I  could  handle  a  topic,  but 
not  a  text.  His  "Man  Friday"  thought  the  same  ; 
I  was  more  "  topical  then  textual." 

Rev.  Mr.  Smith,  the  preacher,  pleaded  hard 
for  me,  and  said  "he  was  surprised  to  see  such  a 
conspiracy ;  he  deplored  its  consequences  to  the 
Church.  He  had  known  Brother  Morgan  for  a 
long  time ;  knew  him  to  be  consecrated  by  a 
Mother's  Hand,  in  early  life,  to  the  ministry  ;  had 
heard  bim  preach  with  acceptance ;  and  his  dis- 
interested labors  among  the  poor  and  lowly  were 
to  his  credit  rather  than  condemnation.  His 
ministrations  in  prison,  without  fee  or  reward,  had 
been  almost  like  those  of  a  Howard.  In  one 
year  he  had  obtained  nineteen  thousand  pledges 
to  temperance.  He  had  lectured  before  large 
audiences  in  New  York  and  Boston,  and  in  the 
presence  of  the  President  and  chief  dignitaries 
of  the  nation.  He  had  hosts  of  credentials  from 
both  clergy  and  press,  in  testimony  of  his  self- 
sacrificing  efforts.  He  thought  it  not  becoming: 

0  O  O 

illiterate  men  to  talk  of  the  "alphabetical  and 
exegetical." 

But  the  hatter  and  his  "  Man  Friday  "  were  in- 
exorable. The  Conference  was  composed  of  nine 
members.  The  two  from  East  Village  did  not  vote. 
The  hatter  obtained  two  votes  from  Stepney,  be- 
sides his  own  two,  making  four  out  of  seven. 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  207 

I  had  been  walking  the  vestibule  over  an  hour, 
when  niy  uncle  came  out,  with  disheartened  coun- 
tenance, saying:  "There  is  too  much  trickery 
here  for  you." 

At  a  lute  hour  of  the  night,  the  vote  was  an- 
nounced. My  uncle  and  I  took  the  carriage,  and 
rode  home  seven  miles  to  bear  the  sad  tidings  to 
my  waiting  mother. 

Oh,  what  a  night  was  that !  What  news  to  that 
devoted  mother !  What  a  dagger  to  her  heart ! 
All  the  efforts  of  her  lifetime  crushed  by  one  wilr 
ful  man  !  Uncle  said  :  "  Yes  1  That  hatter  has 
done  it."  She  recalled  my  consecration  in  the  "  old 
school-house  " ;  her  vow  to  train  me  up  to  the  min- 
istry ;  her  prayers  and  watchfulness  over  my 
moral  being ;  her  fifteen  years  of  angelic  guidance  ; 
her  anxiety  when  I  left  home  ;  her  standing,  as  it 
were,  at  the  helm  of  my  little  bark,  launching  me 
on  the  sea  of  youthful  resposibilities  ;  her  implor- 
ing the  "  Shadowy  Hand  "  of  the  Almighty  to  guide 
and  protect  me ;  her  prayer  and  blessings  at 
morning  and  evening,  at  parting  and  meeting ;  the 
sacred  room  dedicated  to  me  for  gospel  work  ;  the 
songs,  the  Bible,  my  little  paintings,  drawings,  all 
the  furniture  of  the  room  consecrated  for  my  devo- 
tion, and  for  preaching  good  tidings  to  the  meek  ; 
her  early  hopes  ;  her  knowledge  of  my  great  suc- 
cess, congratulations  from  the  good  and  the  great, 


208  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

—  yet,  in  the  midst  of  these  successes,  to  have  the 
object  of  a  lifetime,  my  "  becoming  a  preacher," 
defeated  in  a  moment  by  one  jealous,  illiterate,  con- 
ceited man,  and  this  without  a  charge,  or  even  an 
insinuation  as  to  my  motives  or  against  my  moral 
character. 

This  was  too  much  !  She  had  said  that  P.  M.  P. , 
M  Poor  Man's  Preacher,"  was  the  highest  title  of 
God's  nobility  ;  yet  for  going  among  the  poor,  and 
associating  with  the  meek,  I  had  been  rejected. 

"  Serves  you  right,"  said  my  uncle,  "for  uphold- 
ing such  a  man  as  a  Class  Leader,  when  he  was 
charged  with  intemperance  !  " 

"  I  know  it !  I  know  it ! "  she  said, "  and  bitterly 
am  I  rewarded." 

Oh,  how  she  took  it  to  heart !  She  went  to  my 
room,  looked  at  my  credentials,  and  examined  my 
papers,  as  if  she  must  have  been  mistaken.  I 
wasn't  the  boy  she  thought  I  was.  Then  gazing 
upon  the  portraits  of  the  bishops  on  the  ceiling, 
who  seemed  to  sympathize  with  her,  she  walked 
to  and  fro  before  them,  and  exclaimed:  "Is  this 
Methodism?  This  the  spirit  of  Wesley?  Is  this 
the  way  of  God's  Church  ?  No  !  no  !  it  cannot 
be  !  "  And  tears  gushed  forth,  and  sighs  and  sobs 
filled  the  room. 

As  she  took  her  old,  familiar  hymn-book  from 
the  shelf,  and  thought  of  her  early  songs  and 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  209 

religious  joys  with  that  Class  Leader,  she  cried  : 
"  O  God,  forgive  him  as  I  forgive  ! " 

Her  heart  was  crushed,  her  faith  was  shaken. 
That  night  was  a  night  of  sorrow  and  anguish. 
In  vain  I  said  :  "  Don't  take  it  so  much  to  heart, 
mother !  It  is  in  me,  and  it  must  come  out!" 

"  Ah,  my  son,  you  have  no  chance,  there  are  so 
many  against  you  ! " 

"The  world  is  wide,  mother  !  Methodism  itself, 
in  its  beginning,  was  persecuted,  its  early  defend- 
ers assailed,  some  even  stoned.  '-2V7Z  Desperan- 
dumf" 

But  she  only  repeated  :  "  O  God  !  Give  me  a 
humble  seat  in  heaven." 

No  rest  came  to  her  watchful  brain,  no  sleep 
closed  her  aching  eyes  ;  her  pillow  was  bathed  in 
tears.  "  O  God  1  Give  me  a  humble  seat  in 
heaven,"  was  the  constant  ejaculation.  No  other 
prayer  was  offered  that  night ;  no  other  sound  was 
heard,  save  sobs  and  sighs. 

I,  too,  must  weep,  weep  for  that  mother's  sake. 
She  had  loved  me  too  well,— she  had  hoped  too 
much.  I  felt  I  had  disappointed  her  expectations. 
My  room,  that  night,  was  cheerless  and  lonely. 
The  paintings  and  the  pictures  she  had  placed 
upon  the  walls,  the  care  she  had  given  to  the  toilet, 
every  memento  and  article  of  remembrance,  all 
14 


210  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

seemed  to  reproach  me  for  not  doing  better.     I 
was  not  the  boy  she  thought  I  was. 

"  Oh,  mother,"  I  thought,  "  how  can  I  repay  you 
for  all  your  kindness  and  care,  and  deeds  of  love? 
How  can  I  make  you  happy  and  hopeful  again  ?  " 
And  the  crickets  in  the  wall  that  night  upbraided 
me  for  disappointing  her  hopes,  and  the  wild  bats 
added  to  my  discomfiture  1 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  211 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

Effect  of  Bad  News.  —  Mother  recovers,  and  becomes  bolder 
than  ever.  —  Battle  of  Argument.  —  Radical  Mother.  — 
Conservative  Uncle.  —  Opposed  by  «my  Uncle,  who  loves 
Camp  Meetings,  but  won't  "shell  out."  —  My  sacrifices 
scare  him.  —  Preacher's  Visit.  —  Effect  on  the  Poultry. 

ORNING  came  ;  there  was  no  one  to  pre- 
pare the  early  meal ;  the  Shadowy  Form 
of  that  noble  mother  graced  not  the  table. 
Physical  infirmity  had  yielded  to  mental 
emotion.     She  was  entirely  prostrated. 

Oh,  how  desolate  and  lonely  that  house  appeared, 
with  no  mother's  sunny  smile,  no  cheering  voice, 
no  helping  hand  I  Days  and  weeks  passed  ;  she 
finally  recovered  both  health  and  spirits. 

Once  more  her  busy  hands  were  employed  in 
household  work ;  once  more  her  cheering  words 
were  heard ;    once  more    her  song    of  joy  rang 
through  the  house.     My  uncle  was   desirous   tc 
have  me  give  up  the  idea  of  preaching,  and  con 
sent  to  work  upon  the  farm.     "  Where  I  couk 
earn  a  dollar,"  as  he  expressed  it.     My  mothei 
was  still  firm  in  her  belief  that  I  should  yet  suc- 
ceed in  obtaining  a  license,  and  her  vow  of  con 
secratiou   be   fulfilled.     w  Hope   against    hope  I  " 


212  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

"  Never  too  weak  to  win  ! "  she  would  repeat  many 
times  to  me,  when  I  was  depressed,  and  almost 
discouraged. 

Now  comes  the  battle  of  argument. 

"This  preaching  business  isn't  suited  to  you, 
Henry,  it's  a  waste  of  time ;  you  can't  make  it 
pay,"  said  my  uncle. 

"  But  you  once  advised  him  to  preach,  and  to 
preach  boldly,  and  you  would  assist  him,"  replied 
my  mother. 

"  Well,  if  he  had  been  docile  and  submissive, 
put  on  a  coolness  and  seeming  dignity,  he  might 
have  already  succeeded." 

At  this,  my  mother's  indignation  rose.  She 
said :  "  Act  yourself,  Henry,  if  the  heavens  fall. 
Put  on  no  deception,  if  you  are  never  licensed ; 
be  true  to  your  manhood,  be  true  to  God.  Remem- 
ber John  Wesley's  motto  :  'The  world  is  my  parish  !' 
Corrupt  cliques  are  not  the  Church  of  God  ;  no, 
no  !  God's  Church  is  in  the  hearts  of  the  faithful. 
These  men  have  not  been  chosen  by  the  people, 
the  people  had  no  voice  in  their  election." 

"He  must  submit  to  authority,"  said  my  uncle. 

"  Submit  to  God  and  a  good  conscience,"  replied 
my  mother.  K  If  you  plant  an  oak  in  an  earthen 
jar,  the  oak  must  die,  or  the  jar  break.  The  feet 
of  my  son  may  be  too  big  for  the  tub  he  stands  in." 

"  But,"  said  my  uncle,  "  that  was  the  very  trouble 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  213 

complained  of  by  the  presiding  Elder.  He  said, 
'When  your  son  gets  on  his  war-horse,  Bishops 
and  presiding  Elders  have  to  leave  the  track.' " 

"  Yes  ;  and  it  is  well,"  added  my  mother,  "  well 
that  there  is  one  young  man  bold  enough  to  strike 
.out  in  a  new  path,  to  unloose  the  fetters  imposed 
on  aspiring  talent,  and  set  an  example  for  future 
ages.  There  is  more  genuine  talent  crushed  out 
by  incompetent  Church  officials  than  has  been  hus- 
banded in  the  Church,  three  to  one.  The  Church 
is  dying  for  lack  of  live  men.  Niminy-piminy 
wooden  heads  fill  the  pulpit.  Men  of  power  have 
been  muzzled,  disheartened,  contemned,  driven 
back  to  the  world,  and  lost,  because  of  the  whims 
of  a  few  dogs-iu-the-manger.  If  my  son  will  con- 
sent to  make  the  sacrifices  he  has,  live  devotedly 
to  God  and  for  suffering  humanity,  Church  or 
no  Church,  license  or  no  license,  I  will  sustain 
him  with  a  mother's  love,  so  help  me  God  !  " 

"He  might  have  got  his  license  first,  and  taken 
some  small  appointment,"  remarked  my  uncle. 

"  Small  appointment  ?  "  said  my  mother ;  "small 
appointment?  There  is  scarcely  any  broken- 
down  church  in  the  country  but  has  just  such  big- 
oted officials  to  cramp  a  young  man,  to  thwart  his 
plans,  to  get  the  ear  of  the  Elder,  to  set  the 
Church  against  him,  and  to  ruin  him  ;  yet  a  little 
forbearance  and  encouragement  would  have  devel- 


214  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

oped,  from  these  crushed  ones,  the  traits  of  an 
apostle." 

Now  my  uncle  was  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of 
earnest  preaching.  At  first  he  said  to  me, "  Preach 
without  a  license.  Preach  boldly."  Camp-meetings 
were  his  delight.  The  great  preachers  of  the 
stand  were  his  idols,  their  heaven-inspired  appeals 
to  the  ungodly  were  continually  upon  his  lips. 
He  also  loved  to  hear  his  own  voice  in  prayer, 
and  thought  himself  quite  a  favorite  with  the 
Almighty ;  but  when  money  was  necessary,  or  sac- 
rifice demanded,  he  was  found  wanting,  although 
Providence  had  favored  him  with  a  large  fortune, 
and  he  had  now  .entered  his  new  house.  There- 
fore, in  my  case,  though  at  first  encouraging  me 
in  every  effort,  yet,  when  assistance  was  needed, 
he  opposed  all  my  plans. 

Presiding  Elders,  and  preachers  in  charge,  were 
great  favorites  of  my  uncle.  His  new  house  was 
their  home.  When  they  came,  the  fatted  calf  was 
killed,  the  table  groaned  with  luxuries.  My 
mother  did  the  cooking,  he  furnished  the  food. 
It  was  a  gala-day  all  round,  when  the  preacher 
and  his  family  drove  up  to  David  Underbill's 
home.  Even  the  chickens  took  the  hint  when  they 
saw  the  carriage  drive  up, —  they  knew  that  fresh 
corn  was  coming ;  they  also  knew  that  one  of 
their  number  must  lose  its  head.  Therefore  tho 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  215 

cock  never  crowed  at  the  arrival  of  the  preacher's 
carriage.  On  such  occasions  he  told  the  chickens 
to  "  cut !  cut !  cut !  "  then  they  all  "  cut,  cut,  caw, 
darcut,"  and  scampered  for  the  thicket.  The 
chickens  were  the  only  creatures  shy  of  the 
preacher's  coming. 

The  horse  was  glad  to  welcome  the  preacher's 
horse  ;  he  pricked  up  his  ears,  capered  about,  and 
neighed  a  happy  greeting,  for  he  knew  it  would 
not  be  Christian  to  feed  the  preacher's  horse  and 
not  give  him  any.  So,  on  the  preacher's  day,  he 
got  a  double  quantity. 

The  pigs  were  not  allowed  to  squeal  when  the 
preacher  was  round,  they  had  an  extra  pailful  to 
keep  them  still.  Thus  the  preacher's  visit  spread 
the  humanizing  influences  of  Christianity  even 
among  bipeds  and  quadrupeds. 

Uncle  David  gave  the  preachers  good  dinners, 
because  he  liked  their  company,  and  was  fond  of 
telling  to  them  his  "wonderful"  experience.  He 
had  been  a  "  big  sinner,"  and  thought  his  conver- 
sion little  short  of  a  miracle.  He  welcomed  them, 
and  filled  their  returning  wagon  with  plenty  of 
vegetables,  potatoes  and  turnips.  This,  however, 
was  about  all  he  did  give  them  for  their  preaching. 
His  money  subscriptions  were  very  small ;  in  fact 
he  gave  more  turnips  than  greenbacks. 

The  subject  on  his  mind  next  to  his  conversion, 


216  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

was  the  spiritual  welfare  of  his  nephew.  *^as 
Henry  been  prudent?  Couldn't  he  have  had  a 
license  if  he  had  been  less  impulsive  ?  " 

The  preacher  generally  answered  to  suit  both 
parties, —  the  conservative  uncle  and  the  radical 
mother.  He  said,  "  It  is  well  to  be  prudent  and 
circumspect,  yet  impulsiveness  in  a  young  man  is 
not  always  discreditable."  Both  were  pleased! 

He  continued,  addressing  me:  "I  hope,  like 
your  mother,  you  will  be  radical,  and  speak  the 
whole  truth,  and  like  your  uncle,  you  will  be  con- 
servative, for  the  truth  should  not  be  spoken  at  all 
times."  Both  were  pleased  again. 

The  preacher  said,  "  I  suppose,  Henry,  you  make 
more  money  by  lecturing  than  a  country  minister." 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "if  I  choose  to  lecture." 

The  preacher  responded,  "It  is  well  to  lay  up 
treasures  in  heaven  ;  nevertheless,  to  have  a  trifle 
in  one's  pocket  is  no  sin."  Both  were  pleased 
again. 

The  great  event  of  the  preacher's  visit  was  the 
praying.  After  a  good  dinner,  and  plenty  of  cof- 
fee, all  felt  in  sympathy,  and  prayer  became  easy 
and  natural.  The  preacher  generally  know  how 
to  suit  the  case  of  each,  and  as  he  divined  my 
mother's  heart,  and  prayed  earnestly  for  the  great 
success  of  hei  >on,  she  forgave  everybody  —  even 
the  opposition  of  the  preachers  —and  forgot  all 
my  opponents. 


UFE-STRUGGLES.  217 


CHAPTEK    XXII. 

One  more  Effort  for  License.  —  School  at  Easton. — Tftght- 
School.  —  Revival.  —  Jealousy  of  English  Preacher.  — 
Packed  Conference.  —  Recommendation  to  act  as  Colpor- 
teur without  License.  —  My  Speech  in  reply.  — My  Appeal 
from  the  Conference  to  the  People. —  Again  refused  License. 
—  New  Society.  —  Opened  at  Long  Hill.  — Zeal  and  Enthu- 

.    siasm. 

™™  RESOLVED  on  one  more  effort  for  clerical 
\hfll  honors.  I  opened  school  in  Flat  Rock, 
Easton,  old  Methodist  ground.  I  was  not 
fully  aware  of  the  jealousy  of  the  school- 
master years  before,  nor  of  the  coolness  of  one  or 
two  of  the  leaders.  But  my  stakes  were  set,  and 
I  must  go  on.  I  could  scarcely  have  had  a  more 
favorable  field.  The  people  were  poor  and  hum- 
ble, but  had  great  heart  and  great  devotion  to  the 
cause.  The  meetings  from  the  school-house  had 
leavened  the  community  with  good  morals  for 
miles  round.  Songs  and  prayers  were  the  chief 
enjoyment;  an  intemperate  or  profane  man  was 
rarely  met  with. 

No  sooner  had  I  opened  school  than  I  organized 
a  night-school,  for  the  gathering  of  young  people. 
They  improved  in  Composition  and  Declamation, 
then  studied  Bible  Scenes.  These  exercises  devel- 


218  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

oped  into  religious  meetings  ;  and  such  meetings, 
for  attraction  and  depth  of  interest,  had  not  been 
known  for  years.  Many  were  the  converts; 

Unfortunately  for  me,  however,  the  preacher 
and  the  school-master  had  put  their  heads  together 
in  antagonism  against  me.  The  preacher,  an 
Englishman,  was  jealous  of  the  interest  awakened, 
and  ran  about  scattering  fire-brands,  arrows,  and 
death. 

The  Quarterly  Conference  was  composed  of  Flat 
Rock,  Daniel's  Farms,  and  Centre  Street,  "Weston. 
As  the  Elder  opened  the  Conference,  I  perceived 
he  had  been  prejudiced.  After  witnessing  the 
testimonials  to  my  labors,  he  very  coolly  remarked 
that  as  I  had  done  great  good  heretofore  among 
the  needy,  without  license,  I  could  act  as  w  colpor- 
teur "  at  my  own  expense  still  without  license.  In 
short,  I  might  do  the  work  and  others  receive  the 
name  and  salary,  —  I  bear  the  burden,  and,  as  is 
the  case  with  burden-bearers  in  the  Church  gener- 
ally, be  denied  and  contemned,  and  others  reap 
the  fruits  of  my  labor.  To  submit  to  such  may 
exhibit  a  Christian  spirit,  but  is  not  a  wise  policy. 
I  knew  his  style  of  living,  his  carriage,  his  salary, 
his  easy  berth,  and  how  little  his  heart  was  in  the 
work.  I  pocketed  the  indignity. 

On  examining,  I  found  the  Conference  had  been 
packed  by  the  preacher.  Of  the  two  voters 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  219 

brought  over  from  Daniel's  Farms,  one  had  not 
been  inside  of  a  church,  except  at  a  funeral,  for 
four  years ;  he  traversed  the  fields  and  worked  on 
the  Sabbath.  The  other  was  but  little  better. 
The  church  at  Daniel's  Farms  was  really  extinct, 
having  no  organization  ;  these  men  had  no  right  in 
Conference.  The  two  voters  of  "Weston  were  a 
local  preacher  and  a  steward.  The  local  preacher 
said  he  was  astonished  at  the  learning  and  argu- 
ment exhibited  in  my  sermon ;  he  thought  it  would, 
be  a  sin  to  refuse  such  a  man  a  license. 

The  steward,  however,  thought  otherwise.  He 
had  heard  me  several  times.  I  had  too  much 
"temperance"  in  my  discourses,  and  did  not  pre- 
sent a  "pure  gospel."  He  drank  at  the  same  time, 
was  soon  expelled,  and  died  miserably.  These 
were  the  men  drummed  up  to  vote  against  a  man 
whose  life-struggles  had  been  of  self-sacrifice  and 
toil,  for  the  benefit  of  his  fellows. 

I  heard  the  preacher  whisper,  "  It  is  easier  to 
crush  him  before  license  than  after."  Then  the 
question  came  up  in  Conference,  "Will  you  submit 
to  Church  rule  if  you  are  not  licensed  ?  "  At  this 
the  steward  seemed  in  ecstasy,  and  my  opponents 
exchanged  glances  of  delight. 

I  arose,  and  said  :  "  This  is  the  sixth  time  I  have 
asked  license  from  the  Methodist  Church.  If  I 
am  refused,  as  I  perceive  I  shall  be,  it  will  be  my 


220  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

last  time.  When  I  am  licensed  I  shall  be  com- 
missioned by  a  church  of  my  own.  I  believe  in 
the  scriptural  charm  of  Seven.  Seven  means 
perfection.  'Seven  lamps,  seven  golden  candle- 
sticks, seven  spirits  before  the  throne,  seven 
trumpets,  seven  priests  that  sounded  them  seven 
days  to  surround  the  walls  of  Jericho.  Seven 
churches,  seven  stars,  seven  seals,  seven  angels ' ; 
and  on  the  seventh  time  I  think  I  shall  conquer. 
The  Elder  says  I  can  act  the  colporteur.  I  think 
I  shall,  in  a  big  way.  The  times  demand  men  of 
the  age,  not  fossils." 

"The  three  preachers  who  now  oppose  me  are 
foreigners  just  landed  ;  they  know  nothing  of  the 
American  Idea ;  that  idea  means  Progress  and 
Reform.  They  have  desired  me  neither  to  preach 
nor  speak  in  their  meetings,  lest  I  reflect  upon 
their  talent.  I  must  go  Sabbath  after  Sabbath  to 
hear  them  preach  to  congregations  numbering  less 
than  fifty,  sit  in  the  pew,  keep  silent  for  months, 
just  to  show  my  submission  to  Church  authority. 
And  this  to  a  man  whose  whole  life  has  been 
'action!'  'action!'  'action!'  and  this  without  a 
charge  of  immorality  or  insubordination.  This 
is  not  Methodism  !  It  is  not  Christian-!  'There 
is  something  rotten  in  the  state  of  Denmark.'  I 
will  appeal  from  this  Quarterly  Conference  to  the 
people.  God's  Church  is  in  the  hearts  of  the 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  221 

faithful.  Consecrated  in  early  life  to  the  minis- 
try, reared  for  that  object,  overshadowed  by  a 
holy  mother's  prayers,  the  die  is  cast,  the  Rubicon 
is  crossed,  the  bridges  burned,  and  with  her  motto 
ion  my  lips,  f  Never  too  weak  to  win  ! '  I  take  my 
stand :  — 


*  With  God  to  speed  the  right, 
There's  no  such  word  as  fail.' " 


Of  course  I  was  not  licensed.  When  the  vote 
was  announced,  I  felt  free.  The  trammels  were 
broken.  I  was  no  more  to  be  hampered  by  in- 
competent officials.  I  could  now  speak  in  my  own 
way,  and  strike  out  for  myself.  The  news  spread 
like  wild-fire.  "Morgan  was  now  himself."  At 
the  first  religious  meeting,  songs  and  shouts  went 
up,  and  the  zeal  and  enthusiasm  knew  no  bounds. 
The  Beerses  and  the  Marshes,  a  mighty  troop — a 
host  in  themselves  —  clapped  their  hands,  and 
decided  for  an  Independent  Church.  We  went 
two  miles  east,  hired  a  hall  at  Long  Hill,  and 
organized  a  new  society. 

Within  a  mile  of  our  hall  were  three  churches  — 
two  Episcopal  and  one  Coagregationalist  —  all 
empty.  The  Spiritualists  held  meetings  in  a 
wagon-shop,  which  was  also  occupied  as  a  dance- 
hall  ;  a  liquor-shop  was  hard  by.  These  were  the 


222  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

only  places  of  public  %  resort.  Here  was  a  grand 
field  open  for  trying  my  hand  in  spiritual  reform ; 
a  little  of  the  Methodist  element  would  stimulate 
other  denominations  ;  if  I  could  succeed  here,  T 
could  anywhere.  No  sooner  had  the  revival  com- 
menced on  Long  Hill,  than  the  three  churches 
were  opened,  all  the  members  exhibiting  unparal- 
leled activity.  Good  men  and  manhood  were  at  a 
premium ;  children  were  in  great  demand  for  Sun- 
day-schools. Proselyte  timber  became  scarce. 
All  that  were  to  be  confirmed  went  to  the  Episco- 
pal churches ;  those  that  believed  in  fore-ordina- 
tion went  to  the  Congregationalists,  and  we  had 
the  rest. 


MORGAN  CHAPEL, 
At  Long  Hill,  near  Bridgeport,  Conn.    Page  223. 


XJFE-STKUGGLES.  223 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

Church  Built,  Dedicated,  and  paid  for.  —  "Morgan  Chapel" 
—  llev.  J.  B,  Wakeley.  —  Kev.  E.  E.  Griswold.  —  Increase 
of  Membership.  —  Certificate  of  Life  Membership.  —  Spirit- 
ual Influence  of  Church.  —  My  Reluctance  to  preach  the 
Farewell  Sermon.  —  Leave  for  New  London. 


success  at  Long  Hill,  considering  its 
sparse  population,  was  remarkable.  We 
soon  numbered  over  a  hundred  members, 
having  five  bands,  with  five  leaders,  in  va- 
rious districts,  every  week,  besides  the  public 
meetings  on  the  Sabbath.  Here  I  learned  what 
holy  enthusiasm  could  do,  and  resolved  to  push 
the  battle  to  the  gate.  The  members  of  this  so- 
ciety were  generally  poor,  especially  those  on  the 
eastern  side,  but  a  company  of  more  holy  and 
enthusiastic  worshippers  I  had  never  witnessed. 
When  I  saw  what  bufletings  they  would  endure, 
what  trials,  and  what  sacrifices  for  religion,  I  felt 
encouraged.  From  the  extreme  borders  of  the 
circuit,  even  through  snow  and  storm,  they  were 
almost  invariably  at  their  post.  And  such  singing  ! 
And  such  praying  !  And  this  was  not  through  the 
excitement  of  a  few  weeks  only,  but  for  nearly 
two  years,  during  the  time  I  was  with  them.  And 
their  holy  living  so  corresponded  with  their  pro 
fession,  that  even  the  ungodly  were  filled  with  awe 


224  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

and  respect  at  such  disinterested  devotion.  Add 
what  love  had  those  saints  for  me  !  What  devo- 
tion to  my  interests  !  What  jealousy  over  my  rep- 
utation ! 

Brother  Beers,  who  thought  that  I  had  been 
neglected  in  the  missionary  life-membership  by  the 
ruling  authorities,  went  to  Conference  himself, 
paid  the  whole  amount  for  a  life-member,  and 
brought  the  engraving  home.  Presenting  it  to  me, 
he  declared  that  he  desired  to  see  "fair  play," 
and  thought  that  a  man  laboring  in  the  missionary 
cause  as  I  had  done,  and  without  charge,  was 
entitled  to  the  honor.  We  continued  to  increase 
in  numbers  rapidly,  and  the  hall  became  too 
straight  for  us.  A  lot  was  purchased,  the  corner- 
stone was  laid  by  Kev.  E.  E.  Griswold,  P.  E.,  May 
20th,  1857.  Speeches  were  delivered  by  Rev.  J. 
M.  Reid,  of  Bridgeport,  and  Rev.  E.  E.  Griswold, 
Presiding  Elder,  after  which  I  was  called  upon, 
and  said  :  "Little  did  I  think,  one  year  ago,  that 
we  should  be  able  to  build  a  church  at  this  place, 
and  less  that  my  name  would  be  connected  with 
such  lasting  associations.  Then,  we  were  every- 
where spoken  against  as  enthusiasts  and  fanatics. 
For  a  score  of  persons  to  come  together,  and  sing 
and  pray,  and  respond  with  a  lively  Amen,  seemed 
nothing  short  of  madness.  There  were  against  us 
the  example  of  professors,  the  victims  of  vice, 


UFE-STRUGGLES.  225 

and  the  prejudice  of  bigotry.  Thus  with  fightings 
without,  and  fears  within,  our  little  band,  poor 
and  despised,  commenced  operations.  But  God 
was  greater  than  our  fears,  and  wrought  victories 
marvellous  in  our  eyes. 

"  We  now  compare  favorably,  in  number  and  in 
spiritual  influence,  with  our  sister  churches,  and 
with  a  prospect  of  a  glorious  future ;  and  the 
thought  that  my  name,  this  day,  is  placed  upon 
the  inscription-stone,  is  too  much  for  my  feelings, 
and  quite  overcomes  me.  I  feel  humbled,  for  I 
am  unworthy  of  such  an  honor ;  and  were  it  for 
me  alone,  I  could  in  nowise  accept  it.  But  when 
I  consider  the  coldness  and  formality  of  the 
churches  generally,  in  New  England,  the  appal- 
ling increase  of  intemperance  and  crime, —  the 
opposition  you  have  had  to  contend  with  in  plant- 
ing an  earnest,  spmtual  religion,  such  as  has  force 
qnd  feeling  in  it,  and  such  as  will  preach  louder 
against  unbelief  than  all  theoretic  dogmas  com- 
bined, I  feel  that  it  is  the  cause  you  honor,  and  I 
am  but  a  pencil  in  the  hand  of  the  Great  Artist. 

"  My  reluctance  is  also  increased  when  I  con- 
sider that  this  name  will  remain  conspicuous  to 
passers-by  for  a  lifetime,  whatever  may  be  the 
fate  of  the  author.  It  is  a  solemn  thought,  and 
fearful  are  the  responsibilities  resting  upon  me. 
Oh,  may  my  faith  and  future  success  be  equal  to 
15 


226  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

your  wishes  and  my  prayers  !  I  am  soon  to  roam 
the  world  again,  and  from  this  place  may  I  trim  the 
lamp  of  my  profession,  and,  grasping  the  fire- 
brands of  God's  truth,  may  I  carry  the  flames  of 
a  revival  from  town  to  town  and  State  to  State. 
May  this  be  the  starting-point  of  a  general  awak- 


ening ! " 


The  church  was  built  and  paid  for,  and  dedi- 
cated by  the  Rev.  J.  B.  Wakeley.  My  mother 
was  there  to  wave  the  blessing  of  her  "  Shadowy 
Hand."  On  the  corner-stone  of  the  sacred  edifice 
was  engraved  "  Morgan  Chapel "  ;  I  was  licensed 
by  my  own  church.  The  pews  were  rented,  and  I 
was  now  to  have  a  salary.  Over  two  years  I  had 
worked  without  charge  or  emolument.  I  had  also 
given  $1,000  towards  the  new  edifice. 

Alas  !  my  troubles  pursued  me.  A  superan- 
nuated preacher,  who  had  accumulated  a  fortune 
by  peddling  shirts  and  brooms,  claimed  that  I  had 
built  upon  his  circuit,  and  demanded  the  charge 
of  the  pulpit.  I  at  once  gave  up  the  church, 
rather  than  have  any  difficulty,  as  it  was  deeded 
to  Conference,  knowing  that  Conference  would 
supply  them  with  a  spiritual  man. 

I  delivered  the  Farewell  Discourse,  and  took  for 
text  Acts  xx.  22  :  "  These  are  the  words  of  Paul 
to  the  Church  at  Ephesus.  They  form  a  part  of 
one  of  the  most  pathetic  farewell  discourses  ever 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  227 

recorded.  The  emotions  that  filled  his  soul  at 
parting  with  the  church  he  had  ministered  unto  for 
two  years,  his  reflections  that  they  would  see  his 
face  no  more,  moved  him  beyond  expression. 
He  recounted  his  trials  and  triumphs,  and  felt 
pain  at  leaving  them  as  sheep  without  a  shepherd  ; 
yet  he  longed  to  enter  the  contest  at  Jerusalem, 
and  to  preach  the  doctrine  of  the  Crucified  in  the 
capitol. 

"In  a-much  humbler  degree  these  are  my  feelings 
in  leaving  this  youthful  church  at  the  present 
time.  As  the  rules  will  not  allow  me  to  be 
preacher-in-charge  of  the  church  which  I  have 
builded,  I  feel  that  my  call  is  away,  and  I  long  to 
be  engaged  in  a  wider  field  of  usefulness,  and  bat- 
tle on  more  difficult  ground.  When  I  first  com- 
menced to  preach  at  Long  Hill,  we  had  trials  to 
contend  with  not  unlike  those  at  Ephesus.  Yet, 
poor  and  weak  as  we  were,  the  God  of  Sabaoth 
laid  to  His  helping  hand ;  miracles  of  grace  were 
wrought ;  our  hall  became  too  small ;  a  church  was 
built ;  and  now,  in  one  year's  time,  you  stand  res- 
pectably among  the  congregations,  and  compare 
favorably  in  numbers  "and  influence  with  any  church 
in  these  parts.  I  now  cast-off  the  .cable  that  has 
so  long  anchored  me  among  you;  and  for  the 
swellings  of  untried  seas,  I  leave  the  harbor  of 
my  dearest  recollections.  As  I  seem  to  be  reced- 


228  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

ing,  I  turn  back  for  one  farewell  glance  at  the 
objects  of  interest  which  have  occupied  the  choicest 
moments  of  my  life.  Here  have  I  toiled,  suffered, 
and  finally  triumphed,  and  here  has  been  the  first 
congregation  which  I  could  call  my  own.  It  is  a 
matter  of  congratulation  that  the  congregation  still 
holds  its  own ;  but  few  have  died,  and  but  few 
have  gone  back  to  the  world.  The  faces  that  rose 
from  the  altar,  for  the  first  time  beaming  with 
exultations  of  hope  and  victory,  I  see  before  me, 
smiling  with  the  same  hope ;  and  the  friends 
that  risked  much  and  sacrificed  much  for  me,  are 
still  faithful  to  the  cause  of  God.  They  have 
lost  nothing.  So  I  hope  it  may  ever  be,  that  no 
person  by  me  shall  lose  anything  in  reputation  or 
spiritual  interest,  and  may  never  be  brought  into 
a  smaller  place,  but  into  a  larger  one.  My  object 
is  to  do  them  good,  and  not  evil ;  and  if  I  can 
bring  out  the  talent  of  one  young  man  to  the 
world,  whereby  the  world  may  be  benefited,  I  shall 
be  thankful.  I  have  been  here  contending  for  a 
principle  ;  — it  is  the  right  to  preach  in  a  natural, 
earnest,  and  colloquial  manner,  whatever  preju- 
dice, bigotry,  and  custom  may  say  to  the  con- 
trary notwithstanding.  God  helping  me,  I  intend 
to  pursue  the  same  course  with  renewed  energy 
when  I  arrive  in  Boston. 

"And  now  behold  I  go,  bound  in  the  spirit,  to 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  229 

•*. 

that  city,  '  not  knowing  the  things  that  shall  befall 
me  there.'  If  I  succeed  in  winning  many  souls  to 
Christ,  if  the  multitude  hang  upon  my  lips  as  at 
other  times,  and  God  attends  the  work  with  power, 
I  hope  you  may  share  with  me  the  victory.  And 
when  you  receive  tokens  of  my  success,  I  hope  to 
be  remembered  in  your  prayers  ;  and,  by  the  little 
victories  we  have  won,  let  us  think  of  each  other, 
and,  at  the  heavenly  places  where  we  have  wor- 
shipped together  in  Christ  Jesus,  let  our  interests 
be  reciprocal,  and  there  may  I  be  remembered. 
If  I  am  unfortunate,  and  shall  lose  my  reputation 
or  my  health,  and  come  back  forlorn  and  desti- 
tute, it  is  a  consolation  to  know  that  I  may  yet 
have  friends  who  will  not  cast  me  off  in  time  of 
need,  and  who  will  not  close  the  door  to  my  dis- 
tress, or  witness  my  sufferings  without  feelings  of 
compassion.  There  are  no  acquaintances  so  dear, 
and  no  associations  so  sweet,  as  those  formed  at  the 
feet  of  Jesus.  There  to  bind  those  acquaintances 
are  connected  the  interests  of  two  worlds, — the 
union  of  mortal  and  immortal  powers.  And  if 
Memory  shall  be  allowed  in  heaven  to  look  upon 
places  and  faces  on  earth,  the  dearest  place  in  all 
our  recollection  will  be  where  we  gave  our  hearts 
to  God,  and  the  faces  first  in  our  affections  will  be 
those  that  pointed  us  to  the  Lamb  of  God,  that 
taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world. 


230  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

j* 

"When  I  remember  what  anxieties  you  hav« 
felt  for  my  interest  and  that  of  Zion,  what  forbear- 
ance you  have  exhibited  toward  my  weaknesses, 
what  forgiveness  toward  my  faults,  what  confidence 
in  the  integrity  of  my  heart  and  the  honesty  of 
my  intentions,  and  with  what  unhesitating  willing- 
ness ye  have  complied  with  my  wishes,  — when  I 
consider  these,  I  feel  unworthy  of  such  friends, 
and  unworthy  of  the  confidence  you  have  placed 
in  me.  But  God  knows  my  heart ;  and,  unworthy 
as  I  am,  I  cannot  forget  these  kindnesses,  these 
sacrifices,  and  these  prayers,  so  long  as  Memory 
holds  her  reign.  .  I  cannot  forget  the  hearty  wel- 
comes with  which  I  have  been  greeted  at  your 
homes,  the  generous  board  spread  for  my  gratifi- 
cation and  pleasure,  the  friendly  encouragements 
and  congratulations,  the  kind  counsels,  the  family 
altar,  and  songs  and  conversations  about  Jesus ; 
I  cannot  forget  this  church  and  this  altar,  the  altar 
where  we  have  so  many  times  kneeled,  where  the 
heavenly  powers  have  come  down  to  our  waiting 
souls  in  overflowing  raptures,  where  our  hearts 
have  been  united  in  that  love  which  passeth  knowl- 
edge, where  we  have  taken  the  emblems  of  our 
blessed  Lord  in  the  Holy  Eucharist.  I  cannot  for- 
get this  building,  the  subject  of  so  much  care  and 
anxiety,  so  many  prayers  and  sacrifices  ;  I  cannot 
forget  its  associations.  No,  its  tall  spire  is  the 


UFE-STRUGGLES.  231 

last  lingering  object  of  which  I  lose  sight,  in  my 
slow  and  reluctant  retreat,  and  the  first  to  greet 
me  in  my  return.  When  its  gilded  vane  shall 
first  meet  the  morning  sun,  may  that  sun  find  mo 
in  prayer  for  your  prosperity  !  When  that  sun, 
full  risen,  with  its  resplendent  beams,  pours  its 
flood  of  light  and  love  upon  your  Sabbath  gather- 
ings, and  when  you  are  assembled  with  one  accord 
in  one  place,  with  hearts  all  elated,  with  the  rap- 
tures of  joy  and  blessings  of  hope,  listening  to 
the  one  who  may  fill  my  place  more  acceptably, 
perhaps,  than,  myself,  still,  in  the  midst  of  your 
pleasures,  remember  me,  a  lone  wanderer  up  and 
down  the  world ;  and  let  your  faith,  swifter  than 
the  rays  of  the  sun,  bring  answers  of  peace  to  my 
inquiring  soul,  and,  like  the  telegraphic  shock,  may 
the  electric  spark  tell  me  that  I  am  thought  of 
«vhen  far  away  I 

"What  a  strange,  mysterious  power  there  is  in 
faith  and  prayer,  to  bind  souls  in  a  union  and  har- 
mony of  feeling,  while  they  are  many  miles  apart ! 
I  have  often,  when  in  scenes  of  danger  and  death, 
felt  this.  When  weary  with  hearing  the  com- 
plaints of  the  prisoner,  and  with  comforting  the 
mourning,  I  have  felt  the  spell  come  over  me  like 
a  dream  that  roused  my  drooping  spirits,  refresh- 
ing my  soul ;  and  I  could  but  believe  that  it  was  in 
answer  to  a  mother's  prayer. 


232  SHADOWY    HAND;    OR, 

"When  on  foot,  and  alone,  in  the  wilderness  of 
Canada,  fatigued  and  exhausted,  I  lay  down,  re- 
signed to  the  will  of  heaven,  the  thought  of  pray- 
ing friends  anxious  for  my  welfare,  and  waiting 
to  welcome  .me  back  again,  darted  like  lightning 
across  my  mind,  and  I  arose,  and  resolved,  by  the 
energy  of  Hope,  to  meet  them.  What  but  the 
Spirit  of  the  living  God  can  inspire  and  answer 
prayers  thus  in  our  necessity?  As  our  day  is,  so 
shall  our  strength  be. 

"Then  with  my  eyes  open  to  danger,  and  certain 
only  in  one  thing,  that  of  affliction,  I  can  say  that 
'  none  of  these  things  move  me,'  neither  count  I 
my  life  dear  unto  myself,  so  that  I  might  finish  my 
course  with  joy,  and  the  ministry  which  I  have 
received  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  The  only  things  that 
move  me  are  the  tears  which  I  see  suffusing  your 
eyes,  and  the  thought  that  I  may  see  your  faces  no 
more.  The  thought  brings  before  me  the  lovely 
past,  with  all  its  associations  of  love  and  heavenly 
union ;  and  when  you  sing,  '  What !  never  part 
again?'  my  soul  says,  if  partings  be  so  severe  let 
us  meet  where  we  never  shall  part  again.  And 
the  music  of  this  choir  I  shall  remember,  —  a 
music  coming  from  hearts  that  can  pray  as  well  as 
sing. 

"  And  now,  as  my  little  bark  pushes  off  from 
these  golden  shores,  these  sweet  associations,  per- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  233 

mit  me  to  thank  you ;  in  the  name  of  God,  and 
the  church  of  His  Son,  to  thank  you.  Yet  thanks 
cannot  express  my  meaning ;  it  is  too  cold  a  term ; 
and  the  letters  of  language  and  the  sound  of  words 
cannot  do  it ;  nothing  but  that  Spirit  which  has 
so  long  witnessed  with  our  spirits, —  witnessed  our 
love,  our  faith,  our  prayers  for  each  other,  our 
holy  communion  and  heavenly  rejoicings,  which 
has  upheld  us,  defended,  sustained  us,  in  doubt 
and  fears,  in  trials  and  conflicts  ;  which  has  made 
us  feel  for  others  more  than  ourselves,  and  prefer 
others  above  ourselves ;  which  has  made  us  of  one 
heart,  one  mind,  one  spirit,  bearing  all  things, 
hoping  all  things,  believing  all  things,  enduring 
all  things  ;  —  that  Spirit  only  can  tell  the  gratitude 
of  my  feelings  and  the  overflowing  of  my  heart. 
To  say  that  I  love  you  and  thank  you,  is  to  say 
but  little  ;  and  to  say  that  you  have  been  kind  and 
friendly,  is  what  many  may  say ;  but  to  say  that, 
when  a  wanderer,  and  but  a  boy  preacher,  a  bird- 
ling  first  beating  his  untried  wings,  you  took  me 
in  and  licensed  me,  and  counselled  me,  and  placed 
your  reputation  in  jeopardy  for  me,  and  watched 
me  as  a  parent  bird  over  her  callow  young, —  and 
to  say  that  under  God  I  owe  my  elevation  as  a 
preacher  to  your  efforts  and  your  prayers,  is  noth- 
ing more  than  the  truth,  and  far  short  of  the  hid- 
den meaning  and  spiritual  interpretation  of  Ian- 


234  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

guage.  Then  reluctantly,  and  with  suppressed 
feelings  of  emotions,  deep  struggling  for  utter- 
ance, conies  that  endearing  and  oft-repeated  word, 
— Farewell ! 

"Now  the  guardian  spirit  that  has  thus  far 
inspired  me,  tells  me  that  I  must  leave  you.  Tha$ 
spirit  seems  to  speak  what  I  cannot  utter.  Its 
harp-strings  are  tuned  to  the  strains  of  a  most 
affecting  farewell.  I  see  it  in  the  tearful  eye,  as 
the  well-springs  of  the  heart  open  the  fountains  of 
their  feelings  and  overflow  the  sluices  of  the  soul. 
I  see,  in  saint  and  sinner,  the  working  of  that 
Spirit  melting  your  hearts  as  one,  and  subduing 
the  harsher  feelings  of  your  nature.  That  Spirit, 
hovering  over  this  altar,  and  touching  the  lips  of 
the  kneeling  worshipper  with  fire  from  the  eternal 
throne,  must  inspire  those  lips  with  the  notes  of  a 
mournful  farewell.  Farewell  to  this  altar  and  this 
sacred  desk  !  Farewell  to  these  walls  echoing  the 
praise  of  salvation,  and  these  faces  that  I  may 
never  see  again  !  Farewell  to  the  Leaders  who 
have  labored  so  faithfully,  to  the  choir  which  has 
been  the  solace  of  many  a  weary  hour,  and  the 
strength  of  many  an  encounter.  And  with  them 
I  sound  the  last  strain. .  Now  with  the  vapors  of 
evening,  with  the  soft  zephyr,  comes  whispering, 
with  lessening  cadence,  that  last  solemn  Fare- 
well!" 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  235 


CHAPTEE    XXIV. 

Labors  at  New  London.  —First  Appeal  to  the  Pocket.  —  How 
-  to  disperse  a  Crowd. — Last  Nights'  Meetings  in  Second 
Baptist  Church.  —  Revival  Commenced.  —  Three  Hundred 
joined  the  Baptist  Churches.  —  Additions  to  other  Churches. 
—  Union  Meetings. — Union  Church. — New  London  Con- 
tribution to  the  Boston  Fair.  — Preached  at  Norwich,  Mys- 
tic, Westerly  and  Providence. 

AEEIVED  at  New  London  in  October,  on 
jill  a  Saturday  afternoon,  and  was  cordially  in- 
vited to  preach  in  three  of  the  churches  the 
following  day.  I  preached  in  the  morning 
at  the  Second  Baptist  Church,  Eev.  O.  T.  Walker, 
Pastor.  I  took  for  my  text,  "  God  will  provide." 
It  was  indeed  applicable  to  my  condition,  as  I 
had  literally  "gone  out,  not  knowing  whither  I 
went." 

I  saw,  by  the  sympathy  of  the  audience,  that 
my  earnestness  had  touched  the  right  chord,  and 
was  warmly  greeted  at  the  close.  In  the  after- 
noon I  occupied  the  Methodist  pulpit,  and  in  the 
evening  that  of  Elder  Swan's  large  brick  church. 
The  Elder  lamented  much  the  declension  of  Evan- 
gelical religion  in  the  city,  and  said  he  would 
be  "  a  hewer  of  wood  and  drawer  of  water  "  for  a 


236  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

revival ;  therefore  I  girt  up  my  loins  for  earnest 
work. 

I  preached  in  the  several  churches,  and  at  length 
settled  down  in  the  basement  of  the  Second  Bap- 
tist Church,  as  it  was  central  and  commodious. 
Here  I  paid  the  expenses  for  lighting  and  heating, 
and  labored  night  and  day  for  several  weeks,  but 

with  little  success. 

• 

My  audiences  were  gathered  from  the  lanes  and 
the  by-ways ;  they  came  and  went  at  will,  like  a 
flock  of  sheep;  I  fear  some  were  " lost  sheep." 
After  sermon  one  night,  I  proposed  a  collection  for 
expenses  of  the  church.  I  said,  "I  charge  noth- 
ing for  my  services,  but  you  may  contribute 
towards  the  lighting  and  heating."  This  was  the 
first  time  I  had  touched  their  pockets  ;  it  fell  like 
a  bomb-shell.  What  a  scattering  I  One  started 
for  the  door,  then  another,  and  another,  until  a 
grand  rush  crowded  the  passage-way.  There  was 
no  alarm  of  fire,  no  apparent  danger,  yet  they  fled 
as  if  for  their  dear  lives.  If  their  giving  had  been 
as  lively  as  their  going,  no  one  knows  how  much 
I  might  have  received. 

I  thought  .from  that  night,  if  ever  I  wanted  to 
disperse  rioters,  I  would  send  a  contribution-box 
in  their  midst.  Of  that  large  assembly  I  don't 
think  that  two  dozen  remained  to  contribute  any- 
thing, so  the  matter  dropped,  and  I  continued  to 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  237 

pay  the  expenses,  until  I  was  notified  to  leave 
the  church.  Why  was  I  warned  to  leave  ?  The 
truth  was,  the  preachers  had  decided  to  withdraw 
their  forces  from  me.  Such  a  stir  among  the 
lowly,  so  much  preaching  and  praying  from  house 
to  house,  had  roused  the  preachers'  jealousy. 
Nothing  seemed  more  certain  to  them  than  my 
defeat  and  departure,  if  they  withdrew  from  me 
and  left  me  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  ungodly. 
I  was  to  be  left,  like  the  brave  Uriah,  to  fight  and 
die  alone.  Joab's  forces  were  instructed  to  with- 
draw, that  the  patriot  might  fall  by  the  enemy. 

With  me,  my  reputation  was  a  matter  of  life  or 
death.  If  I  could  not  succeed  here,  I  could  not 
hope  to  succeed  in  Boston,  or  anywhere  in  New 
England.  Success  is  everything  in  a  man's  rep- 
utation. "  Success  is  a  duty."  Cataline  was  no 
greater  conspirator  than  Csesar,  but  success 
crowned  the  one,  defeat  branded  the  other  as  a 
traitor.  The  Lord  might  honor  me  with  a  con- 
sciousness I  had  done  my  duty,  but  the  public 
never  would  flock  to  me  in  other  cities,*  if  I  came 
•without  trophies  of  victory.  It  was  imperative 
that  I  should  get  some  poor  souls  converted ;  God 
only  could  do  the  work.  I  prayed,  fasted,  and 
labored  as  I  had  never  labored  before.  I  asked 
the  committee  to  give  me  the  church  for  two  days 
—just  two  days  only  —  and  I  never  would  ask  for 


238  SHADOWY  HAKD;   OR, 

it  again.     They  consented, 
what   few  friends  I  had  to 
responded. 

Monday  came,  and  found  us  holding  three 
meetings  a  day, — morning,  afternoon,  and  even- 
ing. That  evening  I  took  for  my  text,  "  I  AM 
hath  sent  thee."  I  spoke  of  the  call  of  Moses  to 
deliver  his  people  Israel,  his  refusal,  at  first,  to  go, 
and  the  anger  of  the  Lord  that  was  kindled  against 
him.  He  at  last  consented,  and  great  was  the  joy 
of  the  Israelites  when  he  came  among  them.  But 
when  their  deliverance  was  to  be  attended  with 
difficulty,  and  when  their  bondage  grew  more 
severe,  they  blamed  Moses  for  not  staying  in 
Midian. 

"Now  this  is  my  case.  Your  Elders  at  first  wel- 
comed mo,  and  said  they  would  be  even  'hewers 
of  wood  and  drawers  of  water '  for  a  revival.  I 
came  to  you,  sent  of  God,  with  the  rod  of  faith 
in  my  hand.  You  listened  at  first,  and  were  glad  ; 
but  when  deliverance  would  demand  trials  and  sac- 
rifices, and  when  the  Pharaohs  of  sin  were  likely 
to  be  stirred  up  in  opposition,  and  when  the  mon- 
grel Israelite  must  be  separated  from  the  true 
blood,  ye  trembled.  The  Israelites  asked  for  a 
sign,amiracle  ;  and  is  there  no  sign  here  to  attest  our 
mission  ?  More  than  one  soul  has  been  converted. 
Is  not  that  a  miracle  ?  What  power  has  inspired 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  239 

eucli  agony  of  prayer,  such  a  burden  for  souls  in 
our  afternoon  meetings  ?  What  power  awakened 
that  backslider  at  dead  of  night,  with  such  fearful 
visions  of  Eternity?  What  made  that  man,  never 
before  heard  to  pray,  this  morning,  at  break  of 
clay,  in  his  shop,  praying, 'Lord,  save!  or  I 
perish  ! '  ?  What  meaneth  this  agony  of  soul  ? 
What  meaneth  this  excitement  among  the  uncon- 
*  verted?  this  sympathy  for  me  at  my  unchristian 
treatment  ?  What  has  awakened  the  spirit  of  sac- 
rifice and  prayer  all  over  New  London  ?  What 
but  the  '  GREAT  I  AM,'  who  hath  sent  me  ?  " 

Next  evening  the  basement  would  not  hold  the 
people,  and  the  main  body  of  the  house  was  opened. 
Many  prayers  were  offered  for  me  to  stay  longer ; 
and  one  poor  Methodist  woman  gave  me  two  dol- 
lars, with  such  prayers  and  tears  as  decided  me, 
more  than  anything  else,  to  stay,  if  the  Lord  should 
open  the  way.  But  some  of  the  staid  Leaders 
approached  me,  and  advised  me  to  go,  as  I  could 
do  no  good,  for  there  was  a  general  feeling  against 
me.  I  asked,  "  Who  has  made  this  feeling,  and 
what  offence  have  I  committed?  I  suppose  I 
preach  and  pray  a  little  livelier  than  you  have 
been  accustomed  to.  If  the  Lord  hath  sent  me, 
this  is  leaving  in  an  abrupt  manner  indeed." 

The  general  impression  was  that  I  should  go,  as 
there  would  be  no  house  allowed  me,  and  this,  at 


240  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

any  rate,  would  be  my  last  sermon  in  a  New  Lon- 
don meeting-house.  In  my  sermon  I  spoke  of 
Paul's  parting  with  the  Ephesians  ;  that  he  coveted 
no  man's  silver,  or  gold,  or  apparel ;  that  he  had 
not  shunned  to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God, 
and  had  taught  them  publicly,  and  from  house  to 
house.  These  were  labors  much  like  my  own.  I 
then  turned  to  the  unconverted.  "  The  hour  has 
now  come  when  we  must  part,  unless  you  take  a 
bold,  determined  stand  for  Christ,  and  that  imme- 
diately. You  know  you  are  convicted.  God's 
truth  has  pierced  your  hearts  like  an  arrow.  Why 
do  you  mourn,  and  groan,  and  not  come  forward? 
Christ  is  ready  to  receive  you,  and  the  Recording 
A  ngel  stands  waiting  to  record  your  name  in  the 
Lamb's  Book  of  Life.  Will  you  start,  —  will  you 
seize  the  precious  moment  ?  Mind  !  The  decis- 
ion is  for  ETERNITY  !  Eternity  is  measured  in  one 
little  word, '  Now  ! '  And  now  the  last  moment  'has 
arrived  that  decides  between  me  and  you,  and 
between  you  and  your  God !  Whether  I  stay 
another  day  in  New  London  or  not,  depends  upon 
this  moment.  Souls  must  be  converted ;  if  I  stay, 
I  remain  only  on  one  condition  :  that  you  start  for 
heaven.  Start,  —  but  not  if  not  convicted  !  Not 
for  me  !  not  to  keep  me  in  New  London  !  But  for 
your  own  sake,  and  for  Eternity  !  This  is  the 
decisive  point :  all  that  will  start,  and  desire  our 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  241 

prayers,  let  them  rise  and  stand  upon  their 
feet ! " 

Twenty  persons  immediately  rose,  and  ten  of 
them  were  that  night  converted  to  God.  A  large 
hall  was  hired  for  me  to  preach  in  on  Sabbath  even- 
ings, and  a  smaller  one  during  the  week,  until 
over  two  hundred  came  forward  for  prayers.  Thus 
commenced  the  greatest  revival  ever  known  in 
New  London. 

Soon  the  "gentle  ram"  extended  to  other 
churches,  and  they  reaped  a  glorious  harvest, 
according  to  their  faith  and  labors.  Three  hun- 
dred joined  the  Baptist  churches,  and  the  Meth- 
odist and  Congregational  churches  T\  ere  largely 
increased. 

Some  of  my  friends  obtained  a  hall  in  East  New 
London,  and  there  they  established  Union  Meet- 
ings, and  years  afterwards  these  meetings  still 
continued  to  have  a  most  beneficent  influence,  and 
filially  a  Union  Church  was  built. 

At  our  first  Fair  in  Boston,  the  greatest  attrac- 
tion was  the  "New  London  Table."  Kind  friends 
in  New  London  had  sent  us  a  donation  of  wax- 
work, needlework,  embroideries,  Avorsteds,  and 
shell-work,  which  far  surpassed,  in  beauty  and 
value,  any  other  contribution. 

I  went  from  New  London^o  Norwich.  Here  I 
preached  in  the  Methodist  and  Baptist  churches,  in 
16 


242  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

the  Town  Hall,  and  in  a  large  book-bindery,  in  the 
Preston  side  of  the  town,  where  I  had  great  suc- 
cess. During  my  subsequent  travels  all  over  the 
land,  I  have  met  with  converts  from  the  book- 
bindery.  A  Norwich  paper  says  : — 

"Rev.  Henry  Morgan  has  preached  for  several 
months  in  this  city  with  unwearied  efforts,  and  with 
some  tokens  of  success.  About  two  hundred  have 
presented  themselves  for  prayers,  many  of  whom 
are  taken  from  the  strongest  ranks  of  sin,  and  who 
now  show  signs  of  thorough  conversion.  His 

<_?  CJ 

labors  have  been  exhausting  :  he  has  preached  from 
ten  to  fourteen  times  a  week,  until  he  has  dropped 
down  before  his  audience,  and  been  carried  away 
by  his  friends.  It  will  be  necessary  for  him  to 
recruit  during  the  summer.  His  remuneration 
has  been  small.  Many  of  his  friends  intend  to 
accompany  him,  on  his  departure,  as  far  as  New 
London,  for  which  purpose  they  will  charter  the 
steamboat  Tiger  Lily.  They  desire  to  return  the 
compliment  of  his  New  London  friends,  who  char- 
tered an  engine  to  bring  them  up,  last  winter,  to 
assist  in  his  meetings.  The  young  men  on  the 
Preston  side  are  quite  engaged  in  the  meetings, 
and  also  for  the  excursion." 

Next  I  visited  Mystic,  where  I  was  kindly 
treated,  and  where  over  a  hundred  professed  con- 
version. Mystic  friends  were  exceedingly  warm 
and  enthusiastic. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  243 

When  1  lectured  there  years  afterwards,  a 
preacher,  converted  at  my  former  meetings,  said 
"the  lecture  was  good,  but  he  preferred  my  old- 
fashioned  revival  preaching." 

At  Westerly  my  success  was  not  quite  equal  to 
that  of  other  places,  as  several  sceptics  went  in  to 
the  meetings,  and  injured  their  tone  before  the 
public.  At  Providence  I  preached  in  the  Meth- 
odist churches,  and  in  the  Railroad  Hall,  and  was 
very  kindly  received.  Unless  I  had  tried  my  hand 
here,  I  should  not  dare  to  open  in  Boston.  Prov- 
idence, next  to  Boston,  in  later  years,  has  always 
given  me  my  largest  audiences. 

I  have  lectured,  of  late,  fourteen  times  in  Prov- 
idence, repeating  "Fast  Young  Men"  four  times, 
by  request.  All  my  new  lectures  are  first  deliv- 
ered in  that  city,  in  honor  of  those  who  have  shown, 
in  their  criticisms,  the"Koger  Williams"  spirit  of 
charity. 


244  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

Arrival  at  Boston.  — Preaching  in  Three  Methodist  Churches. 
—  Visit  to  Preachers'  Meeting.  — Preachers'  Eefusal  to  aid 
me. — Kindness  of  Dr.  Kirk. — Hiring  of  Music  Hall. — 
First  Sermon.  —  "Preaching  for  the  Times."  —  Critical 
Audience. 

ROM  Providence  I  came,  a  stranger,  un- 
heralded, to  Boston.  I  had  no  friends  to 
assist  me ;  my  help  was  from  God  alone. 
I  preached  my  first  sermon  in  Hanover 
Street  Methodist  Church,  by  invitation  of  Rev. 
J.  W.  Dadman,  on  the  Sabbath  morning,  and  in 
the  afternoon  in  Hedding  Methodist  Church,  Wil- 
liams Street,  South  End,  Rev.  Mr.  Cox,  Pastor. 
On  the  Wednesday  evening  following,  I  preached 
in  Bromfield  Street  Church  by  invitation  of  Rev. 
Lorenzo  Thayer.  This  was  my  last  sermon  among 
the  Methodists,  except  when  I  exchanged  with 
Bishop  Haven.  I  went  to  the  Preachers'  Meet- 
ing, and  found  that  they  did  not  wish  to  further 
my  efforts,  unless  I  submitted  to  the  direction  of 
Conference,  and  would  remove  when  Conference 
should  direct.  I  stated  that  Father  Taylor  had 
been  here  fourteen  years, — perhaps  I  might  stay 
ab  long.  I  had  a  license  with  me  to  preach,  and 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  245 

as  uij  license  named  no  particular  field,  I  consid- 
ered it  my  right  to  preach  wherever  there  was  an 
opening.  I  had  built  one  church  for  Conference, 
and  had  not  been  allowed  to  preach  in  it.  I 
should  hesitate  before  I  built  another. 

They  said,  "  You're  not  ordained." 

I  replied,  "I'll  han:l  in  my  letter,  and  wait  for 
ordination." 

"We  shall  not  ordain  you,  unless  you  join  Con- 
ference ;  neither  will  any  other  denomination." 

"If  I  am  refused,  then,"  I  said,  "I  will  create  a 
denomination  that  will  ordain  me  ! " 

They  said,  "You  have  no  building  to  preach  in ; 
now  can  you  hope  to  succeed  in  this  great  city, 
having  no  friends  ?  " 

I  said,  "I  will  hire  a  building;  I  will  hire  Bos- 
ton Music  Hall ! " 

"  But  that  will  take  money." 

"Well,  I  have  a  thousand  dollars  ready  in  my 
pocket.  When  that  is  gone,  if  the  Lord  does  not 
sustain  me  I  shall  think  I  am  not  called." 

The  preachers  thought  this  a  bold  undertaking, 
—  no  man  in  his  senses  would  attempt  it.  I  said 
to  them,  I  had  already  preached  for  Dr.  Kirk; 
and  the  Doctor,  after  the  sermon,  grasping  me  by 
the  hard,  said,  "  If  this  be  a  sample  of  your  preach- 
ing, go  on,  and  the  Lord  will  sustain  you  in  Bos- 
ton." 


246  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

"  If  Methodists  can't  endure  old-fashioned  Meth- 
odist preaching,  and  the  Cougregationalists  can, 
I'll  strike  out  for  Independence,  and  push  my  own 
boat." 

They  said,  "You  can't  fill  the  Music  Hall;  no- 
body can  fill  it  except  Theodore  Parker." 

I  said,  "  I  can  try ;  my  motto  has  been, — '  Hope 
against  Hope ! ' 


'  "With  God  to  speed  the  right, 
There's  no  such  word  as  fail ! ' " 


1  hired  Music  Hall,  and  commenced  to  preach ; 
but  I  must  confess  the  audience  gave  me  rather  a 
cool  reception.  There  were  cold  professors  from 
Cambridge,  calm  and  sedate  Churchmen  of  Bos- 
ton, cool  sceptics,  the  uneasy  novelty-seeker,  and 
the  astute  critic,  with  eye-glass  on  nose,  watching 
every  thought  and  gesture,  and  noting  every 
eccentricity  as  minutely  as  a  trader,  before  pur- 
chasing a  horse,  examines  every  part. 

My  first  sermon  was  delivered  Feb.  27th,  1859. 
In  introducing  myself,  I  said  : 

"  In  appearing  as  a  religious  teacher  before  a 
Boston  audience,  it  may  be  necessary  for  me  to 
define  my  position.  For  several  years  I  have  been 
laboring  among  the  poor  and  prisoners  in  various 
States,  and  in  a  mission  which  is  vulgarly  termed 


LIFE-STRUGGLES  .  247 

'on  my  own  hook.'  It  may  be  asked,  Why  not 
labor  among  your  own  denomination  ?  I  answer, 
That  the  poor  to  whom  I  am  sent  are  not  of  any 
particular  denomination  ;  the  world  is  my  field. 
As  to  being  called,  there  is  a  vast  difference 
between  being  'called'  and  being  'sent.'  We 


are  often  called  to  the  place  of  the  highest 
and  the  loudest  call  has  the  sweetest  silver-tone. 
But  we  are  generally  sent  the  other  way,  down 
among  the  poor.  Says  Christ,  '  The  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  is  upon  me,  because  He  hath  anointed  me  to 
Breach  the  gospel  to  the  poor.'  '  I  am  sent  to  the 
lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel  '  ;  therefore  we 
are  often  called  one  way  and  sent  another.  And 
brave  is  the  man  who  can  resist  the  silver  '  call,' 
and  obey  the  copper  *  sent.' 

"My  object  in  Music  Hall  is  to  present  the  gospel 
to  the  working-classes,  and  to  open  a  mission  for 
the  poor  in  some  part  of  the  city.  This  can  be 
done  by  no  one  denomination,  and  by  no  common 
missionary  arrangement.  If  you  say  there  are 
some  free  seats  in  the  churches,  still  the  self-respect 
of  an  American  mechanic  will  not  receive  as  a 
gift  what  others  purchase  ;  and  if  he  cannot  com- 
pete with  others  in  seat  and  dress  for  his  family, 
he  will  stay  at  home.  Nothing  can  meet  tho 
demands  but  a  hall,  where  all  seats  are  considered 
alike,  and  all  persons  are  on  a  common  level. 


248  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

"  It  alarms  my  friends  to  think  that  without  a 
single  backer,  or  a  single  dollar  pledged,  I  should 
come,  an  entire  stranger  in  the  city,  and  while 
other  preachers  have  their  established  churches, 
and  members  covering  the  whole  ground,  that  I 
should  hire  the  hall  when  three  weeks'  rent  would 
cost  more  than  I  ever  had  for  preaching  in  my 
whole  life.  Yet  such  is  the  case.  1  may  be  mis- 
taken in  the  generosity  of  Boston ;  but,  as  seven 
years  ago,  when  but  a  mere  boy,  I  lectured  in 
Tremont  Temple,  and  had  the  expenses  refunded  to 
me,  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  in  the  same  conimu- 
.nity  bread  cast  upon  the  waters  may  not  again 
return." 

I  took  for  my  text,  "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world, 
and  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature."  —  Mark 
xvi.  15,  16.  "Nothing  could  be  more  unpromising 
than  this,  the  last  commission  of  Christ  to  His  dis- 
ciples. To  human  appearance  it  was  wanting  in 
all  the  essential  elements  of  success.  First,  the 
Author.  —  Had  Jesus  started  from  a  distinguished 
city  of  some  vast  empire,  and  from  the  first  schools 
and  authorities  of  His  times,  and  been  followed 
by  accomplished  disciples,  the  world  perhaps 
might  give  Him  a  hearing.  But  He  was  from  a 
small  province,  and  from  a  small  and  despised  city 
of  that  province.  To  be  a  working  carpenter,  the 
son  of  a  carpenter,  housed  in  a  stable,  cradled  in 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  249 

a  manger;  then  to  be  condemned  by  His  own 
countrymen  —  condemned  as  an  impostor,  slain 
as  a  malefactor  —  for  the  followers  of  such  a 
leader  to  think  of  succeeding,  and  those  disciples 
themselves  without  learning,  without  popular  influ- 
ence, in  fishermen  garb  and  Galilean  brogue,  for 
them  to  aspire  to  the  seats  of  the  Aristotles  and 
thrones  of  the  Caesars,  what  could  be  more  pre- 
posterous !  For  such  fishermen-preachers  to  dare 
disturb  the  shades  of  Demosthenes  and  the  manes 
of  Homer,  what  but  a  superhuman  power  could 
make  them  venture  even  the  first  attempt?  But 
they  were  commanded,  and  they  went  in  their 
Master's  name.  They  had  a  secret  power  the  world, 
was  unacquainted  with  ;  an  ineradicable  principle, 
which  neither  fagots,  stones,  nor  steel  could'crush. 
"  And  here  is  the  secret  of  their  success  :  in  bear- 
ing, enduring,  suffering.  The  hope  of  immortal- 
ity made  them  obedient  unto  death.  The  world 
had  not  seen  the  like.  When  from  Jerusalem  the 
Pharisees  and  disciples  of  Gamaliel  stood  round  a 
dying  Stephen,  and  saw  him  praying  for  his  per- 
secutors amid  a  shower  of  stones,  they  were 
astounded  at  the  spectacle,  and  saw  the  Jewish 
hierarchy  crumbling  before  the  suffering  constancy 
of  martyrdom.  When  Imperial  Rome  witnessed 
the  martyrs  march  smilingly  to  the  rack  and  to  the 
stake,  welcoming  the  flames,  which  to  them  were 


250  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

but  a  fiery  chariot  to  glory  —  welcoming  the  chain 
of  iron  which  is  soon  to  be  exchanged  for  a  golden 
crown  —  their  mockery  and  ribaldry,  when  hear- 
ing, far  above  their  blasphemy,  the  watchword,  'Be 
faithful  unto  death  and  I  will  give  thee  a  crown 
of  life,'  and  seeing  the  heavens  open  to  their 
enraptured  vision,  while  they  were  shouting  'Vic- 
tory !  victory  ! '  Heathenism  flew  to  the  dens  and 
caves,  and  Idolatry,  as  if  smitten  with  a  thou- 
sand thunderbolts,  was  scattered  to  the  moles  and 
bats. 

"  We  now  consider  the  '  manner^9  of  their  preach- 
ing, in  contrast  with  the  ministrations  of  the  pres- 
ent day.  —  The  pulpit  is  the  great  bulwark  for  the 
stability  of  government,  the  home  of  the  sub- 
limest  oratory,  the  fountain  of  the  purest  elo- 
quence, and  the  '  Legio  Fulminea?  —  the  thunder- 
ing legion  against  vice,  if  it  be  properly  manned. 
But  the  watchmen  of  the  American  pulpit  have 
yet  to  learn  that  to  be  '  stuck  over  with  titles  wins 
no  battles,'  and  that  reading  an  essay  on  meta- 
physical dogmas,  '  coldly  correct,  and  critically 
dull,' Avithout  one  pointed  thrust,  or  strong  appeal, 
is  not  preaching.  They  have  yet  to  learn  that  this 
fastidious  elaborateness,  this  cushioning  the  face 
of  the  hammer  of  God's  Word,  lest  it  be  too  harsh 
for  some  dignified  pew-holder,  this  hiding  the 
sword  of  God's  truth  beneath  diamonds,  ribbons, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  251 

and  rhetorical  flourishes,  this  fighting  with  kid 
gloves,  silver  canes,  and  buskins,  will  never  over- 
turn Satan's  kingdom." 

(Here  I  perceived  I  had  the  attention  of  the 
audience.  Some  began  to  stare  in  astonishment ; 
others  to  bow  assent,  and  whisper  smiling  words 
of  approval.) 

I  continued :  "  How  would  Petcf  look  after 
being  commissioned  by  heaven  to  preach,  in  com- 
ing to  Gamaliel  for  school-boy  lessons,  and  copy- 
ing enough  of  the  Targums  and  Talmuds  to  weave 
into  a  discourse,  then  start  for  Athens  with  man- 
uscript in  hand,  and  with  the  gruff  voice  of  a  fisher- 
man, and  brogue  of  Galilee,  an  unlearned  and 
ignorant  man,  as  he  and  John  were  said  to  be, 
even  after  they  had  received  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 
there  upon  the  forum  of  Demosthenes  read  a  dis- 
sertation on  the  moral  and  intellectual  merits  of 
the  Nazarene?  How  ridiculous  to  stand  before 
the  household  of  Caesar  to  demonstrate,  from  a 
written  essay,  the  necessity  of  abandoning  all  the 
gods  and  religion  of  their  fathers,  all  the  customs, 
philosophy,  and  poetry  of  a  thousand  years,  that 
they  might  be  saved  by  a  malefactor,  crucified  in 
that  little  rebellious  province  of  Judea.  What  a 
tremendous  excitement  he  would  raise  !  What  a 
bluster  in  the  court !  What  a  furor  would  the 
reading  of  such  a  document  excite  !  How  soou 


252  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

would  the  terror-stricken  gods  leap  from  their 
pedestals  ?  How  soon  would  Plato  and  Aristotle 
seek  the  shade,  and  blush  and  bow  before  the  unlet- 
tered Galilean?  How  soon  would  the  whole  Ro- 
man Empire  be  turned  upside  down?  It  may  be 
affirmed  'that  those  times  demanded  earnest  preach- 
ing, for  they  were  less  refined  than  ours.'  I  ask, 
What  times  do  not  demand  it  ?  Nature  is  the  same 
in  all  times.  And  when,  in  New  England,  in  the 
face  of  these  giant-growing  sins,  was  more  vehe- 
ment preaching  ever  demanded  ? 

w  Object  and  language  of  preaching.  —  The  apos- 
tles had  but  one  motive,  one  object,  and  one  aim : 
and  that  was  the  conversion  of  sinners.  If  that 
were  attained  by  preaching,  they  gave  God  the 
glory  ;  if  attained  by  suffering  and  death,  they  re- 
joiced to  be  counted  worthy  to  die.  In  perils  by 
sea,  in  perils  by  land,  in  weariness  and  painfulness, 
hunger  and  thirst,  cold  and  nakedness, — they 
were  alike  invincible.  Such  were  the  first  preach- 
ers of  Christianity. 

"  In  language  they  were  untrammelled  with  the 
technicalities  and  dialectics  of  the  schools,  the  pro- 
lific source  of  so  many  deists  and  athiests  of  our 
day  ;  but  coming  direct  from  the  people,  their  lan- 
guage was  simple,  earnest,  vehement  and  over- 
whelming. 

"  And  here  is  the  great  fault  of  modern  preach- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  253 

ing.  Its  language  is  from  books,  not  men.  Relig- 
ion is  a  social  principle,  entering  into  all  the  affairs 
of  life,  and  should  be  preached  in  a  social  manner. 
The  very  name  of  '  homily '  once  meant  a  social 
discourse.  Religion  should  be  preached  in  nat-; 
uralness.  We  are  natural  in  everything  else  but 
preaching.  Away  with  your  multitude  of  '  firstly, 
secondly,  thirdly,'  and  forty  other  arbitrary  divi- 
sion, subdivisions,  and  sub-sub-divisions.  The 
people  demand  social  colloquial  preaching,  such 
as  Jesus  delivered  in  parables  by  the  sea-side, 
when  preaching  about  sheep,  fishes,  and  harvest- 
fields.  Such  was  the  preaching  of  Paul,  when  he 
preached  all  night  at  Troas.  Such  was  the  preach- 
ing of  the  golden-mouthed  Chrysostom,  when 
receiving  vociferous  applause  from  the  audience. 
But  now  even  a  loud  'Amen, 'in  our  sleepy  times, 
would  start  Dignity  from  his  boots,  and  shock  a 
fashionable'  audience  like  an  earthquake.  Origen, 
who  first  introduced  metaphysical  subtilities,  also 
introduced  dangerous  heresies.  And  in  the  pres- 
ent day,  dogmatic  theology  and  mechanical  preach- 
ing are  making  more  infidels  than  all  the  infidel 
writers  in  Christendom. 

"  The  Bible  has  been  belied  by  its  pretended 
defenders.  Oh,  ye  followers  of  the  fishermen  ! 
Infidelity  laughs  at  your  sham  fighting,  your  blank 
cartridges,  and  paper  bullets.  Away  with  your 


254  SHADOWY  HAND  ;  OR, 

essences  and  quintessences,  and  give  your  hungry 
people  bread  !  Throw  off  the  cumbrous  armor  of 
Saul,  and  choose  the  pebble-stones  and  the  sling. 
Cry  out,  '  Fire  !  fire  !  fire  ! '  like  a  faithful  watch- 
man, when  the  city  is  in  danger.  Not,  ' 'Ignis! 
ignis  !  ignis  !  fuge  ires  Dei  Tonitrus  ! '  But '  Fire  I 
fire  !  flee  the  thunders  of  God's  wrath.' "  (Here  the 
College  Professors  began  to  stare,  as  if  my  mode 
of  expression  was  something  strange,  —  unusual. 
All  were  on  the  qui  vive  to  ascertain  what  was  to 
follow.) 

"  Let  your  words  be  simple.  Some  of  the  strong- 
est expressions  in  language  are  composed  of  mon- 
osyllables. 'God  said,  Lot  there  be  light:  and 
there  was  light,' — is  one  of  them.  Sanctimonious 
dignity  would  say,  'The  Omnipotent  commanded  ; 
and  forthwith  confiscations  of  effulgence  descended 
upon  the  sable  brow  of  Erebus.'  God's  Word  is 
Yea,  Nay,  and  Amen.  Jesus  Christ  could  use 
satire.  Elijah  mocked  the  priests  of  Baal,  and 
said,  'Cry  aloud,  for  he  is  a  god.'  John  the  Bap- 
tist cried,  'O  generation  of  vipers,  who  hath 
warned  you  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come?' 
Peter  said  to  them,  '  Ye  have  killed  the  Prince  of 
Life/  He  called  them  murderers  to  their  face. 
But  we,  forsooth,  to  silence  the  batteries  of  sin, 
must  flee  from  common  language,  and  fortify  our- 
selves behind  the  pulpit,  give  out  orders  in  Latin, 
and  fight  with  puff  balls  1 


IJFE-STKUGGLES.  255 

*  Need,  of  change. — Thus  we  contrast  with  the 
preaching  of  our  fathers  and  the  apostles.  What 
but  a  thorough  change  can  meet  the  exigencies  of 
the  case?  Scepticism  assumes  new  forms,  erect- 
ing new  batteries  in  our  very  midst.  Intemper- 
ance grows  gigantic,  unmet  by  either  law  or  gospel. 
Maine  Laws  are  but  cobwebs,  and  pulpit  essays 
but  gossamer ;  yet  they  tell  us  *  there  is  no  need 
of  change.'  'Is  there  not  a  cause?'  said  David, 
when  the  Philistines  threatened  Israel  with  total 
overthrow,  with  none  to  meet  the  giant ;  and  is 
there  not  a  f  cause '  for  a  change  of  warfare  in  our 
Israel?  a  cause  for  simpler  weapons,  and  for  a 
stronger  arm  of  faith?  Walk  ye  down  these 
streets  where  Infamy  holds  her  diabolical  reign, 
Debauchery  her  gilded  chambers  of  death,  checked 
neither  by  Church  nor  State ;  then  tell  me  there 
is  not  a  cause  !  Tell  me  that  a  gospel  able  to 
save  to  the  uttermost  the  odds  and  ends  of  earth, 
the  lowest  of  the  low,  cannot  be- made  to  bear  in 
their  case!  'Oh,  tell  it  not  in  Gath,  publish  it 
not  in  the  streets  of  Askelon,  lest  the  Philistines 
rejoice,  lest  the  uncircumcised  triumph.'" 

(Quite  a  sensation  was  now  apparent,  almost 
amounting  to  applause.  Many  shifted  about  in 
their  seats,  and  brought  their  canes  heavily  to  the 
floor,  as  if  to  say,  "  That's  so  !  there  is  need  of  a 
change!"} 


256  SHADOWY    HAND  •    OR, 

"I  ask,  If  the  fallen  were  to  reform  to-day,  liow 
many  churches  of  this  city  would  welcome  them, 
and,  Christ-like,  have  it  said,  'He  eateth  with 
them '  ?  How  many  would  present  a  gospel  they 
could  understand?  How  many  of  the  preachers 
have  time  to  visit  these  outcasts?  And  if  they 
should,  how  many  are  competent  to  sympathize 
with  the  mourning,  and  bind  up  the  broken- 
hearted ? 

"  Methodists. —  Shades  of  the  "Wesleys  !  Fathers 
of  Methodism  I  Where  now  your  ancient  glory  ? 
Tomb  of  Whitefield!  Shrine  of  the  brave! 
Where  that  voice  that  once  shook  the  world  ?  Oh, 
stir  your  venerable  bones  !  rouse  your  hallowed 
dust ;  and  from  your  sacred  ashes  let  there  rise 
the  phoenix  of  a  new  reformation  !  And  ye  fathers 
of  American  Methodism  !  Ye  once  despised  Meth- 
odists I  ye  whose  names  were  cast  out  as  evil !  ye 
graduates  from  Nature's  own  university, —  from 
kitchens,  school-houses,  camp-meetings,  and  barns  ; 
ye  whose  diplomas  were  written  with  the  finger 
of  God,  and  whose  only  criterion  was  success  ! 
look  down  from  your  glorified  seats,  upon  us 
your  children.  Bow  your  reverend  heads,  and 
weep,  if  immortals  can  weep,  over  our  condition. 
Look  upon  the  heritage  ye  have  left  us  !  Where 
the  example  ye  have  taught  us  ?  Where  the  fol- 
lowers ye  may  call  your  children  ?  Where  that 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  257 

untiring  zeal  which  drove  you  through  all  reproach, 
all  sacrifice  of  body  and  soul,  for  Christ?  Where 
that  zeal  for  the  conversion  of  sinners,  which 
rejoiced  with  joy  unspeakable  at  their  coming 
home  to  God ;  which  considered  every  sermon  a 
failure  without  immediate  results  ?  a  zeal  that  cries, 
'  Give  me  souls,  else  I  die  ! ' 

"  Where  that  sympathy  for  the  poor  ?  that  Christ- 
like  compassion  for  them  which  made  many  a  mul- 
titude rise  up  and  call  you  blessed  ?  Where  that 
apostolic  success  which  broke  forth  on  the  right 
hand  and  on  the  left?  Where  those  loud  shouts 
that  made  many  a  Jericho  fall,  and  many  an 
enemy  cry  out,  '  It  is  the  power  of  God '  ?  Where 
that  unconquerable  faith  which  took  no  denial ; 
which  laughed  at  impossibilities  ;  which  had  great 
results  ?  Alas  !  alas  I  '  How  are  the  mighty  fallen, 
and  the  weapons  of  war  perished.'  Alas  !  '  The 
bow  that  turned  not  back,  and  the  shield  of  the 
mighty  are  vilely  cast  away.' 

"Oh,  what  a  falling  off  is  here  !  And  why  is 
this  ?  Is  sin  less  abounding  ?  Are  the  poor  less 
needy  of  the  gospel  ?  Shall  sinners  go  unwarned  ?. 
Hear  it,  Almighty  God !  Shall  they  people  the 
regions  of  dark  despair  without  one  inviting  voice  ? 
No!  NO!  by  yonder  Common,  where  Jesse  Lee 
preached ;  by  yonder  Old  Elm,  whose  umbrageous 
boughs  overshadowed  the  first  Methodism  of  this 
17 


258  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

metropolis ;  no,  by  the  tomb  at  Newburyport,  it 
shall  not  be  !  no,  so  long  as  Whitefield's  bones 
remain  in  glorious  repose  upon  our  shore,  the  dry 
bones  of  backslidden  churches  shall  hear  the  trum- 
pet of  Resurection  ! 

"Modern  Whitefields. —  Oh,  wonderful  age  of 
Whitefields  this  !  I  ask,  Who  among  the  modern 
Whitefields  preaches  from  seven  to  fourteen  times 
a  week,  and  when  preaching  six  or  nine  times, 
considers  it  short  allowance?  Who,  with  deep 
emotion  before  every  audience,  speaks  — 

'  As  if  he  ne'er  might  preach  again, 
A  dying  man  to  dying  men'  ? 

Who,  in  agony  of  soul,  with  strong  cries  and 
tears,  feels  the  destiny  of  immortal  souls  hung 
upon  the  efforts  of  every  moment?  Who  feels 
his  knees  trembling,  his  heart  bursting  with  grief, 
and  his  eyes  a  fountain  of  tears,  while  praying, 
*  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from 
me,'  and  still  feeling,  '  Wo  is  unto  me,  if  I  preach 
not  the  gospel '  ?  Who  sacrifices  all  for  Christ, — 
home,  friends,  ease,  wealth,  reputation?  Who 
goes  from  house  to  house,  and  from  town  to  town, 
like  a  blazing  comet,  preaching  at  all  hours,  and 
giving  every  dollar  for  Christ?  Oh,  ye  modern 
Whitefields !  Ye  who  use  your  voice  only  one 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  259 

day  in  seven,  great  indeed  are  your  labors,  and 
great  your  sacrifice  I 

"Is  there  no  remedy?  —  Oh,  America!  has  it 
come  to  this?  Shall  science  advance  with  rail- 
road and  telegraphic  speed,  and  preaching  retro- 
grade ?  Shall  infidelity  triumph  on  Puritan  soil  ? 
Shall  its  pitchy  cloud  of  locusts  eat  up  every 
green  thing,  with  no  rod  of  Moses  to  drive  them 
into  the  sea  ?  Shall  it  part  the  sacred  ties  of  hus- 
band and  wife,  destroy  the  confidence  of  society, 
desecrate  the  Sabbath,  tear  down  pur  altars,  break 
up  our  Sabbath-schools,  undermine  the  pulpit, 
trample  upon  the  Bible,  crushing  our  every  hope, 
with  no  prophet  to  cry  against  it?"  (Great  sen- 
sation.) "Hark  !  the  sound  of  conflict  is  heard  ! 
The  battle  is  already  begun ;  shall  we  flee  to  our 
tents,  fold  our  arms,  and  cry  '  Peace,  peace  ! '  when 
there  is  no  peace  ?  God  of  Sabaoth  forbid ! 
Then  come  from  the  four  winds,  O  breath,  and 
let  these  bones  live  I  O  Breath  !  BREATHE  upon 
these  slain  !  Bid  them  rise,  and  stand  upon  their 
feet,  a  mighty  army.  Already  I  see  a  thousand 
eyes  flash  with  triumph ;  a  thousand  hearts  beat 
to  the  tread  of  battle ;  a  thousand  hands  grasp 
the  sword  of  God's  eternal  truth ;  and  a  thousand 
spirit  voices  shout,  Victory  I  victory  I " 


260  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 


CHAPTEE    XXVI. 

Large  Audiences.  — Effect  of  the  Sermon.  —  Congratulations. 
—  Circulation  of  Sermon.  —  Three  Services  a  Day.  —  At 
Music  Hall,  Wait's  Hall,  and  Lager-Beer  Saloon.  — Decline 
of  Health. — Funds  Running  Low. — Rainy  Sunday  Morn- 
ing. —  Story  of  the  Robin.  —  Sermon  on  Woman's  Mission. 

HE  audience  at  my  first  sermon  in  Music 
Hall  was  large,  and  the  response  was 
generous,  both  in  feeling  and  contribu- 
tion. The  collection  was  the  largest  I 
ever  received.  Bishop  Huntingtou,  then  a  Pro- 
fessor of  Harvard  College,  was  in  the  audience, 
and  said  he  was  highly  pleased,  and  hoped  the 
movement  would  succeed.  He  soon  started  a 
similar  work,  in  Boston,  himself;  several  other 
Professors,  and  leading  citizens  of  Boston,  gath- 
ered round  me  in  congratulation. 

In  the  evening  I  continued  the  same  discourse  ; 
my  sermons  were  already  printed,  and  lay  upon 
the  table.  A  thousand  copies  of  them  were  taken. 
Next  morning  paper-carriers  were  distributing 
them  all  over  South  End.  The  name  of  "  Morgan" 
was  upon  hundreds  of  lips.  Great  interest  was 
awakened,  an  I  great  inquiry  as  to  whether  I  should 
be  a  success.  I  had  hired  the  hall  for  a  short  time 


IJFE-STKUGGLES.  261 

only,  to  get  advertised  before  the  public,  BO  that  I 
could  establish  a  mission  among  the  poor.  Many 
of  my  first  audience  have  remained  firm  friends 
and  co-workers  with  me  unto  the  present  time. 
My  first  convert  in  Boston  was  at  the  first  prayer- 
meeting  in  the  reception-room  of  the  Music  Hall, 
on  the  first  Sunday  evening.  During  the  week  I 
held  various  meetings,  and  visited  from  house  to 
house. 

The  Boston  Bee  reports :  "The  new  religious 
movement  was  inaugurated  yesterday  afternoon, 
at  Music  HalL  It  is  proposed  to  have  services 
every  Sunday,  free  to  all,  those  in  attendance  con- 
tributing or  not,  as  the  spirit  may  dictate,  or  their 
means  allow. 

"Mr.  Morgan  is  of  the  Methodist  denomination, 
and  of  the  Revivalist  stamp,  though  in  this  move- 
ment he  does  not  appear  in  a  denominational 
character.  He  has  labored  for  the  most  part  in 
Connecticut,  in  which  State  he  has  a  reputation 
of  some  note  as  a  preacher. 

"  The  subject  of  the  sermon  was  'Preaching  for 
the  Times.'  The  main  idea  of  his  discourse  was, 
that  we  needed  preaching  that  is  more  earnest 
and  hearty,  preaching  that  not  only  touches  the 
heart,  but  penetrates  and  rouses  the  soul.  He  criti- 
cised modern  preaching  with  a  keen  tongue  and 
ready  wit.  Preaching  upon  velvet,  and  with 


262  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

metaphysical  essays,  coldly  correct  and  critically 
done,  he  thought  not  only  did  not  do  any  good, 
but  increased  infidelity.  The  object  of  preaching 
should  be  to  convert  souls  to  God  ;  and  this  is  to 
be  done  in  a  plain,  common-sense  way,  by  using 
such  terms  and  illustrations  as  we  hear  daily  ;  by 
putting  that  'power  into  it,  and  feeling,'  which 
made  the  preaching  of  the  apostles  so  wonderful. 
It  was  the  man,  he  said,  and  not  the  words,  that, 
gives  power  to  preaching.  The  speaker  was  sad 
that  the  spirit  of  Methodism  —  of  Wesley  and 
Whitfield,  and  other  great  lights  —  had  so  degen- 
erated in  the  manner  of  its  preaching. 

"  Mr.  Morgan  is  essentially  a  live  preacher,  hav- 
ing all  the  spirit  and  energy  of  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  but  resembling  him,  however,  in  no  con- 
siderable degree.  He  uses  no  notes,  and  speaks 
not  only  with  freedom,  but  with  impetuosity.  His 
gestures  are  violent,  irregular,  and  often  awkward. 
His  general  manner  is  something  like  Gough's : 
theatrical,  startling,  and  frequently  spasmodic. 
As  a  preacher,  however,  he  has  much  power,  and 
we  will  venture  a  guess  that  he  will  be  a  great  suc- 
cess. In  person,  he  is  a  genuine  specimen  of  a 
live  Yankee.  The  man,  his  manner,  style,  spirit, 
will  not  fail  to  draw  a  crowd." 

After  this  I  preached  one  sermon  each  Sabbath 
in  Music  Hall,  one  in  Wait's  Hall,  South  Boston, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  263 

and  one  each  Sabbath  evening  in  a  lager-beer 
saloon  on  Washington  Street.  The  saloon  would 
hold  about  200  persons,  and  the  bar  was  open  at 
the  time  of  preaching.  The  first  night,  there  were 
not  sober  ones  enough  to  keep  the  drunken  ones 
still !  Thus  two  antagonistic  spiritualities  were 
striving  for  the  mastery.  After  preaching  here 
several  weeks,  the  proprietor  declared  that  his  cus- 
tomers were  leaving,  and  I  should  have  to  take  the 
hall  altogether,  or  give  up  preaching  in  it,  for  the 
two  machines  wouldn't  run  in  the  same  groove  ! 
When  he  made  the  grand  confession  that  Kum  must 
succumb  to  the  power  of  the  Gospel,  it  was  the 
proudest  moment  of  my  life.  The  thought  of 
bearding  the  lion  in  his  den  filled  me  with  con- 
fidence and  hope.  I  said  :  "Now  I  shall  succeed 
in  Boston." 

But  visiting  twenty  families  a  day,  and  holding 
meetings  every  night  for  three  months,  began  to 
tell  upon  my  health.  My  nights  were  sleepless, 
Nature's  sweet  restorer  rarely  bringing  balm  to 
my  affliction.  I  suffered  great  pain ;  neuralgia 
troubled  my  face.  Some  nights  were  spent  in 
pacing  my  narrow  room,  others  in  walking  the 
streets,  in  the  vain  effort  to  ease  my  anxiety. 
Many  think  my  taking  that  hall  a  rash  act ;  and  so 
it  was,  and  I  staked  my  all  upon  it.  Well  do  I 
remember  one  cold,  rainy  Sabbath  mom,  when 


264  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

rising  from  a  painful,  restless  couch  in  a  narrow 
attic  in  Essex  Street,  I  found  it  was  raining.  Th\t 
rain  might  prove  my  ruin. 

I  knew  if  I  failed  in  this  enterprise  I  should  be 
branded  as  a  fanatic,  and  my  enemies  would  rejoice 
to  see  their  prophecies  fulfilled.  God  alone  could 
help  me.  That  morning  I  rose  and  prayed ;  I 
prayed  in  the  midst  of  the  tempest,  while  the 
storm  furiously  rattled  against  my  window.  If 
the  storm  should  continue,  I  should  have  no  audi- 
ence that  day,  and  no  assistance  to  carry  me 
through  another  Sabbath,  as  my  funds  were  get- 
ting low.  Then  farewel]  to  Boston  ! 

In  the  midst  of  the  pouring  rain  a  robin  flew 
upon  a  tree  near  my  window  in  Newbury  Place, 
back  of  Essex  Street,  and  began  to  sing.  As  its 
shrill,  piercing  notes  rose  high  above  the  storm, 
it  fluttered  its  wings  and  shook  off  the  fast-falling 
rain,  and  still  kept  on  singing.  I  was  struck  with 
surprise  at  its  courage  and  joy.  Ah,  thought  I, 
if  this  poor  shivering  robin  can  sing  in  such  a 
cold,  merciless  storm,  shall  I  despair?  No!  if 
God  provides  for  the  raven  and  the  robin,  He  will 
not  forsake  the  weakest  of  His  saints  !  Glory  be 
to  His  name !  Though  He  slay  me,  yet  will  I 
trust  in  Him. 

That  moment  my  soul  lighted  up  with  joy. 
Light  flashed  upon  my  pillow  like  the  brightness 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  265 

of  noon-day ;  a  halo  of  light  shone  romicl  about 
me.  Then  I  seemed  to  hear  a  voice  saying, "  What 
doest  thou  here,  Elijah?  Lo,  I  am  with  you 
always,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world."  Oh,  the 
calm,  holy  joy  of  that  ecstatic  moment !  Oh,  the 
peace  of  mind,  the  rapture  of  soul,  and  the  sweet 
quietude  of  my  bodily  frame  !  My  nerves  became 
quiet,  pain  fled  away,  and  a  calm,  refreshing  sleep 
fell  upon  me.  I  awoke  in  time  for  meeting,  and 
looked  from  the  window.  Lo  !  the  storm  was 
gone,  the  sun  shone  brightly  ;  I  attended  service, 
the  audience  was  large,  my  spirit  was  free,  a  bless- 
ing attended  the  Word. 

My  subject  was  "Woman's  Mission."  I  said : 
"  Women  of  America  !  How  many  of  you  are 
dying  for  want  of  public  spiritual  exercise  ?  Dying 
because  you  have  no  field  of  labor?  Dying  with 
nothing  to  do  ?  You  see  the  fields  already  white, 
and  would  gladly  be  a  Ruth  to  take  the  gleanings ; 
but  there  is  no  Boaz  to  welcome  you.  You  hear 
the  cries  of  suffering  humanity,  but  are  not 
allowed  to  speak  in  its  behalf.  But  it  shall  not 
always  be  'so.  Preaching  has  been  pulpit-ridden 
lonsr  enough.  Preaching  must  commence  in  small 

O  CU  C7 

circles,  in  private  houses,  and  upper  rooms  again. 
The  work  has  already  commenced.  Twenty  femalo 
missionaries  of  this  city,  holding  twice  that  num- 
ber of  meetings  per  >reek,  are  busy  in  the  work, 


266  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

and  five  hundred  more  are  panting  for  the  field .  A 
mighty  change  is  coming  over  the  spirit  of  preach- 
ing,—  a  mighty  revolution  in  the  ministrations  of 
the  Word.  The  day-spring  is  rising.  The  glori- 
ous millennial  day  is  dawning,  and  its  radiant 
advent  shall  be  ushered  in  by  the  ministrations  of 
Woman  ! 

"  While  the  disciples  were  few,  who  were  tho 
'many 'that  followed  Jesus,  and  ministered  to 
Him  of  their  substance  ?  Who  left  husbands  and 
homes  in  Galilee,  and  followed  on  foot  for  seventy 
miles,  to  listen  to  His  teachings?  Who  was  glad 
to  bathe  the  feet  of  Jesus,  while  a  proud  Simon 
refused  oil  for  His  head  ?  Who  loved  much  because 
she  was  forgiven  much?  Who  watched  the  dying 
Son  of  God  when  the  pale  and  cowardly  disciples 
had  fled  ?  When  one  had  sold  his  conscience  for 
money,  and  another  had  denied  Him  with  an  oath, 
who  still  lingered  round ,  and  gazed  and  wept,  sighing 
with  His  sighs,  and  shuddering  with  His  groans, 
pouring  out  her  soul  at  His  agony?  Who  fol- 
lowed the  mangled  corse  to  its  last  resting-place, 
and  sat  over  against  the  sepulchre  weeping  ?  Who 
wore  the  last  to  leave  the  sepulchre  at  evening, 
and  the  first  to  -visit  it  on  the  resurrection-morn  ? 
Who  was  the  first  to  see  Jesus  after  He  had  risen  ? 
Who  received  the  first  commission  to  preach  on 
the  Resurrection  ?  Who  preached  the  first  gospel 


UFE-STRUGGLES.  267 

sermon,  and  how  was  it  received  by  the  apostles? 
Just  as  her  story  of  the  cross  is  received  nowadays 
by  faithless  disciples, —  'And  their  words  seemed 
to  them  as  idle  tales,  and  they  believed  them 
not.' 

'  Not  she  with  traitorous  kiss  the  Saviour  stung  ; 
Not  she  denied  Him  with  unholy  tongue  ; 
She,  while  apostles  shrank,  could  dangers  brave, 
Last  at  His  cross,  and  earliest  at  His  grave.' 

"  The  star  of  woman's  empire  rose  with  the  gos- 
pel, and  sank  with  it  in  the  Dark  Ages.  When 
Methodism  arose,  her  voice  was  heard  again,  and 
every  member  was  enjoined  to  speak.  The  social 
circle  is  her  theatre  of  action,  and  prayer  the  lever 
of  her  power.  Religion  forms  her  train,  Charity 
fills  her  court,  Mercy  is  her  prime  counsellor,  and 
Humanity  her  subjects.  She  visits  the  fatherless 
and  widows  in  their  affliction,  and  feels  that,  inas- 
much as  she  has  done  it  unto  the  least  of  these, 
she  has  done  it  unto  Christ.  Man  may  coldly  dis- 
cuss his  religion  from  the  pulpit,  and  clearly  con- 
vince the  head.  She,  by  live,  warm  action,  con- 
vinces and  moves  the  heart.  A  holy  living  full  of 
feeling  and  faith,  is  the  mightiest  logic.  Man 
may  move  the  arm  of  the  State  and  of  battle ; 
she  moves  the  heart  that  moves  the  arm.  To 
reform  an  evil  world,  man  resorts  to  politics  and 


268  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

to  war ;  she  to  God,  in  earnest  prayer.  Man  rages 
as  the  fire,  the  whirlwind,  and  the  storm ;  she,  all 
godlike,  speaks  in  the  still,  small  voice.  He  may 
thrill  and  terrify ;  she  will  melt  and  subdue.  Her 
influence  is  the  leaven  that  worketh  silently.  The 
sunbeams  are  voiceless  and  noiseless ;  yet,  beneath 
their  silent  rays,  winter  yields,  snow  melts,  waters 
flow,  flowers  bloom,  fruits  appear.  So,  beneath 
the  genial  smiles  of  woman,  earth  is  made  almost 
a  paradise.  Her  influence  is  silent  as  the  sun- 
beams, gentle  as  the  dews  of  heaven,  soft  as  the 
breath  of  violets,  and  sweet  as  the  zephyr's  flow. 
When  sanctified  by  religion,  her  eyes  sparkle  with 
heavenly  rhetoric,  her  .voice  charms  with  holy 
music,  and  her  countenance  beams  with  the  radi- 
ance of  the  King  of  Righteousness. 

"  Welcome,  ye  heralds  of  mercy  !  Welcome, 
ye  messengers  of  peace  !  Welcome,  ye  that  bind 
up  the  broken-hearted,  and  ye  that  comfort  the 
mourning  !  Welcome  to  the  waste  places  of  Zion  ! 
Welcome  to  the  high  position  that  ye  once  en- 
joyed in  the  early  days  of  the  gospel !  Welcome 
to  the  leadership  of  bands,  as  in  Wesley's  time  ! 
Welcome  be  your  voice  in  our  prayer-meetings  ! 
Then  awake,  O  woman,  to  your  duty  !  By  your 
gratitude  for  what  the  gospel  has  done  for  you, 
awake ! " 

I  also  related  several  anecdotes  given  in   this 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  269 

work,  such  as  w  Call  her  Children,"  "Woman  to  the 
Rescue,"  "  Child  in  a  Cave,"  and  *  Woman's  Fidel- 
ity," which  won  their  sympathy,  and  roused  to 
the  highest  pitch  their  ardor  for  missionary  work. 
At  the  close  of  the  lecture,  many  devoted  ladies 
came  forward  with  subscriptions,  and  other  prof- 
fers of  assistance.  One  lady,  who  was  a  nurse, 
and  had  but  small  means,  divided  her  substance 
with  me,  and  brought  in  many  workers.  One 
person  brought  me  five  dollars  from  a  lady  belong- 
ing to  the  Baptist  Church,  who  continued  monthly 
subsc*  vptions  for  a  period  of  twelve  years.  Sev- 
eral oi  the  noble  spirits  who  first  met  me  there, 
have  been  co-laborers  with  me  to  the  present 
time. 

Thus  the  Lord  rescued  me  in  the  hour  of  trial. 
My  debt  of  gratitude  to  the  great  Army  of  Women 
is  beyond  calculation.  When  I  had  no  helper,  they 
prayed  as  never  mortals  prayed  before.  They 
sacrificed  home,  talent,  health,  and  some  of  them 
even  life  itself,  for  me  and  the  gospel. 


270  ,  SHADOWY    HAND }    OR, 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

Merchants  aid  me.  —  They  Petition  for  use  of  Franklin 
School  Building.  —  Organization  of  the  Boston  Union  Mis- 
sion Society.  —  Its  Success.  —  Converts  from  every  Class  of 
Society.  —  Over  a  Thousand  Reclaimed.  —  Cheap  Police 
Investment.  —  Night-school. —  Volunteer  Teachers.  —  Exhi- 
bition of  Ned  Nevins.  —  My  Ordination.  —  Sickness.  — 
White  Dove.  — Harbinger  of  Peace. 

HE  merchants,  seeing  I  was  doing  a  good 
work  among  the  lowly,  petitioned  the 
city  authorities  for  the  use  of  Franklin 
School  Building,  owned  by  the  city,  now 
vacant.  Here  we  organized  in  May,  1859,  the 
Boston  Union  Mission  Society,  for  £he  purpose 
of  carrying  the  gospel  to  the  poor,  clothing  chil- 
dren for  Sabbath-school,  educating  boys  of  the 
street,  and  getting  homes  and  employment  for 
the  needy.  It  embraced  a  Church,  Sabbath-school, 
Night-school,  Benevolent  Sewing  Circle,  Indus- 
trial Agency  for  Working  Women,  and  Employ- 
ment Office.  The  merchants  said,  "Mr.  Morgan, 
don't  be  sectarian ;  keep  independent ;  do  all  the 
good  you  can,  and  we  will  sustain  you.  If  you 
ever  want  to  open  in  Music  Hall  again,  call  on 
us." 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  271 

"We  continued  in  that  building  for  the  space  of 
eight  years.  There  we  held  services  every  night 
in  the  week,  and  six  services  on  the  Sabbath. 
Great  interest  was  awakened,  and  many  were  the 
converts.  People  of  every  class  were  reclaimed 
from  sin,  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  — from  the 
University  student  to  the  lowest  criminal.  The 
pugilist  forgot  his  thirst  for  blood,  the  intemperate 
abandoned  his  cups,  the  profane  ceased  to  swear, 
the  blasphemer  commenced  to  pray ;  the  Sabbath 
breaker  attended  service,  the  sceptic  ceased  to 
doubt;  dishonest  men,  and  fraudulent  traders, 
turned  over  a  new  leaf.  The  school-building 
became  a  Bethesda  for  the  penitent;  there  was  a 
stir  in  the  Waters  of  Mercy.  One  was  converted 
who  had  not  been  inside  of  a  church  for  sixteen 
years.  One,  a  Harvard  student,  who  had  squan- 
dered $2,000  a  year,  and  had  been  disowned 
by  his  family  and  friends,  was  restored.  His 
father  paid  his  debts,  and  his  mother  blessfed  him 
on  his  return,  now  a  changed  man.  Some  from 
the  House  of  Correction  became  earnest  workers 
in  the  Society;  scores  from  the  gutter  and  the 
prison  became  useful  and  honorable  citizens,  until 
over  a  thousand  persons  professed  a  change  of 
heart. 

These  meetings  were  profitable  in  various  ways  : 
they  were  self-supporting;  they  paid  the  pastor 


272  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

his  salary ;  they  furnished  laborers  for  the  Benev- 
olent Sewing  Circle,  and  teachers  for  the  Night- 
school  ;  they  were  a  shield  to  the  young ;  the;y 
prevented  crime ;  protected  life  and  property ; 
they  moralized  and  regenerated  socie+v ;  they  were 
profitable  here,  to  say  nothing  of  the  "hereafter." 
They  were  the  cheapest  and  purest  of  all  recre- 
ations. w  Sing  unto  the  Lord,  O  ye  his  saints  ! " 
—  None  but  the  pure  in  heart  can  enjoy  tj,iem ; 
therefore,  their  tendency  is  to  elevate  the  life  and 
soul. 

The  City  Fathers  found  the  grant  a  cheap 
police  investment,  for  the  prevention  of  crime. 
Piety  that  pays,  is  worth  something.  To  reform  a 
vicious  and  idle  man,  whose  family  is  dependent 
on  charity,  saves  the  public  the  time  and  the  wages 
of  the  man,  —  saves  fifteen  dollars  a  week.  Such 
salvation  pays.  To  educate  two  or  three  hundred 
boys  evenings,  and  reform  them  while  they  are 
earning* their  own  living  on  the  streets,  saves  the 
State  one  hundred  dollars  per  day,  or  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars  a  year.  Such  salvation  pays.  Vol- 
unteer teachers,  with  moral  suasion,  battling 
against  sin  and  ignorance,  are  more  likely  to  suc- 
ceed than  hired  officials,  with  whip  and  lash,  in 
public  institutions.  Besides,  reforms,  to  be  gen- 
uine, must  be  voluntary,  and  in  the  face  of  temp- 
tation. Boys  must  learn  to  resist  while  the  bait 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  273 

is  before  them.  There  is  no  virtue  in  fasting 
where  there  is  nothing  to  eat.  Plants  in  hot- 
houses won't  stanl  the  storm.  Churches  are 
cheaper  than  jails.  Congregating  boys  in  public 
institutions  vitiates  them  ;  evil  predominates.  By 
huddling  fire-brands  together,  you  increase  the 
flame.  Christianity  individualizes  ;  despotism  cen- 
tralizes. Away  with  despotism  !  it  is  costly. 

Baptisms  were  generally  solemnized  at  South 
Boston  Harbor ;  the  gatherings  numbered  many 
thousands,  and  were  very  impressive.  The  sing- 
ing added  much  to  the  interest. 

All  denominations  were  friendly  to  the  Mission. 
Exchanges  were  made  with  Dr.  Neale,  Dr.  Blag- 
den,  Dr.  Manning,  Dr.  Webb,  Dr.  Dexter,  Dr. 
Kirk,  Bishop  Haven,  and  others.  Women  were  not 
slow  in  coming  to  the  aid  of  the  Church.  Mrs. 
Liverrnore,  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe,  and  many 
other  female  philanthropists  filled  the  pulpit. 

Now  came  another  difficulty,  the  most  serious 
of  all :  I  was  not  ordained,  being  simply  a  licensed 
preacher  in  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 
The  Conference  would  not  ordain  me,  unless  I  gave 
the  Mission  into  the  hands  of  the  Methodists. 
They  stated  that  Father  Taylor's  influence  had  been 
exerted  for  the  Unitarians  rather  than  for  the  Meth- 
odists. They  wanted  no  more  such  experiments. 
Not  being  ordained,  I  could  neither  administer  the 
18 


274  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

sacrament,  nor  solemnize  marriages.  What  was 
to  be  done  ? 

My  friends  advised  me,  by  all  means,  to  keep 
independent.  I  joined  with  Rev.  Hirani  Mattison, 
of  New  York  City,  and  called,  a  Conference  of 
seven  Independent  Methodist  churches,  and  that 
Conference  ordained  me.  Thus  I  became  pastor 
of  the  first  Independent  Methodist  church  of  Bos- 
ton. The  church  is  Congregational  in  government, 
Baptist  as  respects  immersion,  and  Methodist  in 
doctrine  and  mode  of  worship. 

The  night-school  increased  until  it  numbered 
from  three  to  four  hundred.  Twenty  volunteer 
teachers  attended  each  night.  We  enlivened  our 
routine  by  exhibitions,  on  which  occasions  Gov- 
ernor Andrew,  the  Mayor  of  the  Oity,  Eev.  Mi". 
Waterstou,  Judge  Russell,  Mr.  Philbrick,  Dr. 
Wetherbee,  Dr  West,  Dr.  Warren,  Wendell  Phil- 
lips, and  other  celebrated  gentlemen  addressed 
the  boys.  The  boys  had  a  chance  to  speak  on  the 
same  platform  with  these  notables,  —  now  a  news- 
boy, now  a  Mayor ;  — now  a  coal-picker,  now  the 
School  Superintendent ;  now  a  boot-shiner,  and 
now  Wendell  Phillips.  They  appreciated  tho  im- 
portance of  the  occasion,  and  were  determined  to 
do  their  best. 

Many  of  the  boys  graduated  with  honors,  iv^ 
have  since  made  their  mark  in  the  world;  thr-y 


,  » 

^  H 

2  ft 

—  •J 


"  3    2? 


a-  -   53 

c  •«   2 


9 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  275 

may  be  found  practising  law,  in  stores,  printing- 
offices,  and  other  honorable  occupations.  The 
model  hero  of  the  school  was  Ned  Nevins,  whose 
life  was  published  in  connection  with  "  Street  Life 
in  Boston."  This  book  created  a  tremendous 
furore.  Boston  alone  exhausted  the  first  edition  , 
twenty  thousand  copies  were  sold  the  first  year. 
Its  success  induced  the  production  of  the  present 
work. 

A  portion  of  the  dialogue  of  this  book  was 
represented  by  the  boys  of  the  school  in  Boston, 
Lowell,  and  other  places.  At  Tremont  Temple, 
it  created  great  enthusiasm.  The  boys  depicted  the 
scene  to  the  very  life,  and  drew  forth  many  a  sym- 
pathizing tear.  One  gentleman  was  so  delighted, 
he  at  once  gave  $20  to  the  school ;  others  gave 
presents  to  all  who  took  part  in  the  performance. 
Among  the  scenes  represented  were  Ned's  arrest, 
his  heart-rending  appeal  to  go  to  his  poor  sick 
mother ;  Mag  Murphy's  animosity  against  Ned,  the 
court-scene,  his  vindication  and  acquittal,  and  the 
death  of  Ned's  mother  in  Orange  Lane.  I  lec- 
tured also  on  the  same  subject,  and  obtained  con- 
siderable funds  for  the  Mission. 

Sixteen  hours  a  day,  however,  of  continual  labor 
in  night-school,  Church  and  Mission  work  for  the 
poor,  relieved  by  but  little  sleep,  finally  pros- 
trated me.  My  lungs  gave  way,  and  I  was  brought 
to  death's  door. 


276  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

Oil  Sunday,  June  15,  1862,  I  was  advertised  to 
preach  a  funeral  discourse  on  the  deatli  of  Mrs. 
Julia  Youiigueel.  After  the  advertisement  had 
gone  forth,  I  was  attacked  with  hemorrhage  of  the 
lungs,  and  could  not  preach;  Rev.  Mr.  Holland 
took  my  place.  While  the  audience  was  gathered 
in  the  chapel,  a  beautiful  white  dove  came  flitting 
into  the  room,  flying  about  the  chapel,  over  the 
seats  and  over  the  pulpit,  then  halting  as  if  it  had 
a  message  to  communicate  ;  it  allowed  itself  to  be 
caught  without  resistance.  Except  a  few  spots 
beneath  its  beak,  which  hung  like  jewels  about  its 
neck,  it  was  of  pure  snowy  whiteness,  without  a 
stain  upon  its  fleecy  down,  as  if  coming  from  a 
land  of  purity  with  a  message  of  mercy.  Having 
tarried  a  day  or  two,  it  departed  on  its  aerial  mis- 
sion, followed  with  the  blessings  of  many  a  wor- 
shipper. Some  of  the  audience  became  alarmed, 
thinking  this  bird  a  harbinger  of  death. 

The  preacher  told  them  it  was  a  happy  omen  of 
iny  recovery. 

"Hail,  holy  dove  !  patriarchal  bird  !  messenger 
from  the  spirit  world !  From  what  dream-laud 
hast  thou  come,  and  what  is  thy  message?  I  take 
thee  to  be  a  messenger  of  mercy,  entering  the  win- 
dow of  our  ark,  bearing  the  olive-branch  of  Peace. 
"Welcome,  holy  courier  !  May  thy  advent  be  hailed 
with  delight !  may  the  members  of  this  church  be 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  277 

peaceful  and  dove-like  !  In  doing  good,  may  their 
speed  be  as  the  wings  of  a  dove  !  When  conten- 
tions come,  may  they  flee  from  them  as  a  dove 
from  the  voracious  hawk  !  May  this  dove,  as  the 
dove  that  attended  John's  baptism  in  Jordan,  be 
accompanied  with  a  holy  unction  from  on  high ! 
May  the  baptism  of  the  Holy  Ghost  come  with  its 
advent,  remain  with  its  exit !  May  blessings  come 
as  a  cloud,  and  as  doves,  to  our  windows  !  " 

A  baptism  of  wonderful  power  came  to  the 
church  with  that  dove ;  all  hearts  were  stirred. 
The  Mission  never  before  was  so  faithful  in  Chris- 
tian labor,  never  so  thoughtful  of  their  pastor. 
Though  not  allowed  to  converse  with,  or  even  see 
me,  their  kind  tokens  of  remembrance  were  unpre- 
cedented. Bouquets,  jellies,  comfits,  and  every- 
thing that  warm,  loving  hearts  could  suggest,  were 
freely  tendered  me.  Oh  !  how  united  were  they  ! 
What  a  noble  band !  What  devoted  followers 
of  Christ !  Nearly  all  of  the  pastors  in  the  city 
tendered  their  services  to  till  my  pulpit.  I 
never  knew  how  deep  I  was  in  the  hearts  of  the 
people,  till  sickness  laid  me  low. 

"  Out  once  more. — Once  more  I  venture  in  the 
streets  to  taste  the  balmy  air.  Once  more  I  feel 
the  clear  beam  of  sunshine.  It  is  refreshing  to 
iny  soul,  its  golden  rays  gleam  with  hope  upon 
in}  pale  cheek.  Oh,  how  salubrious  is  this  bracing, 


278  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

buoyant  air  !  Oh,  how  sweet  is  the  light  of  God's 
heavenly  rays  !  Hope  darts  on  their  beams.  How 
exhilarating  the  breath  of  flowers.  It  comes  to 
me  on  the  zephyr's  win£;  filled  with  the  aroma  of 
Paradise.  How  cheering  the  song  of  birds  !  On 
wings  of  joy  they  sing  their  matin  songs,  praising 
God  in  the  free  air  of  heaven.  I  have  been  caged, 
confined.  Once  more  I  ascend  these  stairs,  to 
minister  at  the  altar  and  greet  the  face  of  friend. 
Sacred  stairs  !  Never  were  steps  to  Jewish  throne 
more  holy.  And  never  was  Jewish  altar  in  Jew- 
ish sanctuary  more  hallowed  than  this  pulpit. 
Glorious  pulpit !  where  the  majesty  of  the  Divine 
presence  has  been  felt,  where  the  Divine  image  has 
been  displayed  through  the  Word,  and  where  the 
glory  of  the  Shechinah  has  shone  forth .  To  me  it  has 
been  the  fleet  charger,  fired  by  the  spirit  that  has 
borne  me  to  many  victories.  It  seems  to  welcome 
me  as  one  that  knows  its  master.  It  speaks  and 
says,  'Welcome  to  the  courts  of  the  Lord,  wel- 
come to  the  Temple  of  David.' 

"  Once  more  I  stand  before  my  own  dear  peo- 
ple. Your  faces  appear  lovely ;  they  speak  in 
language  divine.  Your  warm  greetings  welcome 
me  as  a  friend  from  a  far  country.  Your  counte- 
nances are  imaged  on  my  heart,  they  have  been 
pictures  for  my  sick-room  reveries ;  they  have 
awakened  longings  in  my  soul,  and  have  hung  in 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  279 

sweet  recollections  in  the  gallery-chamber  of  my 
memory.  Your  features  have  played  before  me 
like  fairy  forms  in  the  castles  of  enchantment. 
They  have  seemed  to  say,*' The  Lord  bless  you  ! 
may  Heaven  smile  upon  you  !'  Lo,  now  they  look 
in  loveliness  upon  me,  they  pity  my  weakness, 
they  smile  with  hope ;  they  shine  on  the  sympa- 
thetic waters  of  my  soul  like  the  round  full  moon 
on  glassy  lake  in  the  evening  of  summer.  The 
transparent  features  of  my  soul  drink  in  all  the 
radiance  of  your  love.  The  beating  of  my  heart 
finds  an  echo  in  yours.  As  the.  silent  watching 
stars  that  in  the  lone  midnight  hour  beam  through 
the  window  of  the  sick-room,  watching,  yet  fear- 
ful to  disturb,  so  have  been  the  tender  eyes  of 
your  affection,  gazing  upon  my  weakness,  fearful 
to  speak.  As  rosy  Spring  conies  leapiug  over  the 
hills  with  hands  full  of  flowers,  so  have  your  foot- 
steps entered  my  room  and  filled  the  house  with 
odors  of  the  lily,  the  daffodil,  and  the  rose.  As 
golden  summer  comes  laden  with  delicious  fruit, 
so  your  hands  have  brought  the  luscious  stores  of 
a  tropic  clime.  Ah !  the  climate  in  which  they 
grew  is  not  warmer  than  are  your  own  warm 
hearts." 


280  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

White  Dove  continued. — Death  of  Mrs.  Julia  Youngneel.  — 
Sick-chamber. — Angel  "Watcher. — Her  Sparkling  Eye,  a 
Gem  from  Ocean  Wave. — Marriage. — Life  Risked  and 
Lost. — Dying  like  a  Dove. — Farewell,  White  Dove. — 
Heaven's  Commissioner  I  holy  bird,  farewell ! 

ELL  me,  sweet  bird !  Hast  thou  not 
come  from  the  silent  city  of  the  dead? 
the  cemeterial  shades?  the  green  grave 
of  the  departed  ?  Hast  thou  not  a  mes- 
sage from  the  spirit  world  ?  hast  thou  not  a  word, 
a  token,  a  sign  from  Julia?  Coming  with  thy 
fair  neck  loaded  with  pearls,  hast  thou  not  some 
memento,  some  sweet  memorial  from  her? 

If  thou  hast,  there  is  one  who  will  receive  it. 
There  he  sits ;  his  head  is  bowed,  his  face  is  cov- 
ered, and  his  hands  are  filled  with  falling  tears. 
He  sees  not  the  multitude  around  him,  he  hears  no 
voice  but  hers.  Her  dying  cadences  still  echo  in 
his  ear  as  from  a  spirit  land  ;  he  can  hear  no  other 
sound.  Ah  !  these  are  times  that  try  his  faith  in 
God.  There  he  sits,  bowed,  bereft,  pining,  com- 
fortless, and  lone.  Hast  thou  not  some  cheering 
sign  ?  some  comforting  word  ?  A  word,  a  look,  a 
thought,  a  sign  from  Julia,  would  be  worth  more 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  281 

to  him  than  a  kingdom.  Speak  !  fair  bird ;  oh, 
speak  a  word  from  behind  the  curtain  !  Is  it  well 
with  her  ?  is  it  to  be  well  with  this  her  child  ? 
Does  she  think  of  home  ?  and  does  she  pity  that 
broken  heart  there?  Home!  sweet  home,  how 
changed  !  There  once  the  weary  spirit  found  an 
asylum  of  rest ; '  there  a  refuge  from  intruding 
care,  and  there  a  quiet  haven  for  the  sea-tossed 
bark  of  life.  Home  was  the  end  of  his  toil,  the 
goal,  the  Mecca  of  the  heart,  where  devoted  pil- 
grim found  a  shrine  for  his  offerings.  Now,  alas  ! 
that  shrine  is  broken,  and  desolation  reigns. 
Every  shadow  darts  a  gloom,  every  sound  strikes 
terror,  and  every  association  speaks  of  death. 
The  vacant  garments,  in  their  shadowy  wrinkles 
air  eventide,  whisper  in  the  twilight  air,  as  the 
breath  of  her  whose  noble  heart  once  beat  beneath 
their  costly  folds.  The  vacant  room  and  chair,  and 
drawer  and  toilet  speak,  and  the  empty  couch  cov- 
ered with  her  own  handiwork  has  a  voice  that  no  writ- 
ten language  can  express.  A  world  of  thought  is 
centred  in  that  couch,  a  World  of  bliss  and  of  grief. 
In  marble  whiteness,  pure  as  her  own  pure  heart, 
it  had  borne  the  heads  of  their  wedded  love,  and 
thrown  the  pillow  of  its  downy  arms  beneath  their 
breathing  features,  as  if  conscious  of  the  treas- 
ures it  bore,  while  Heaven  showered  upon  them 
its  selectest  benedictions.  Now,  alas !  it  stands 


282  SHADOWY  HAXD;  OR, 

a  pale,  cold  monument, — too  sacred  lo  be  ap- 
proached. 

.  She  was  the  first  and  only  object  of  his  earthly 
love.  All  else  were  nothingness  in  hif  sight,  all 
other  objects  paled  before  the  sun  of  her  counte- 
nance, and  all  other  thoughts  retreated  at  her 
approach.  She  was  too  much  his  idol ;  he  had 
placed  too  much  of  his  treasure  in  an  earthen  ves- 
sel. Yet  so  it  was  decreed,  Heaven  had  ordained 
it,  the  treasure  came  to  him  without  his  seeking. 
He  had  been  searching  for  wealth ;  life  had  been 
made  up  of  trials,  and  travels,  and  adventures ; 
he  had  not  looked  for  social  bliss.  He  sought  for 
gold,  and  traversed  seas,  spanned  the  ocean,  and 
circled  continents,  but,  in  truth,  he  found  no 
sparkling  gem  till  he  met  the  eye  of  Julia.  Her 
eye  darted  joy  to  his  soul,  her  voice  whispered 
pleasure,  and  her  presence  filled  the  mighty  void 
of  his  once  vacant  heart  with  felicity.  Asleep  or 
awake,  at  meeting  or  parting,  by  day  or  by  night, 
one  object  alone  filled  his  thoughts.  Wealth  had 
no  charms  for  him,  his  earthly  goal  was  reached, 
and  the  prize  was  in  his  arms.  But,  alas  !  they 
were  too  happy  for  this  uncongenial  earth,  the 
luxuriant  flowers  of  their  affection  were  too  exu- 
berant for  the  cold  chills  of  this  frosty  clime. 
Their  love  was  like  the  ripe,  luscious  fruit  of  a 
tropic  clime;  it  can  be  enjoyed  but  for  a  day. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  283 

There   he    sits,   the    bridegroom    of   one    short 
year. 

He  had  not  sought  her,  but  found  her  sent  of 
Heaven,  as  an  Angel  of  Mercy,  a  free-will  offering 
upon  the  altar  of  self-consecration  for  his  recovery 
in  the  dark  hour  of  sickness.  When  the  plague 
was  raging  in  this  city,  she  heard  of  an  exemplary 
young  man  sick  in  this  a  foreign  land.  He. was 
sick  with  a  pestilence.  All  did  shun  the  house, 
even  ministers  stood  aloof,  and  I  must  confess 
that  I  was  one  of  them.  But  a  modest  young 
woman,  of  fair  countenance  and  amiable  mien, 
had  more  courage  and  devotion  than  anointed 
bishops.  She  had  learnetl  the  foreign  tongue,  she 
could  speak  the  comforting  word,  and  she  addressed 
herself  to  the  task.  She  broke  through  every 
barrier,  braved  all  danger,  and,  inhaling  the  breath 
of  infection,  she  threw  herself  at  the  feet  of  the 
sufferer.  Like  a  spirit  did  she  enter  that  sick- 
room, and  with  noiseless,  fairy  footsteps,  like  the 
wing  of  a  seraph,  did  she  flit  before  his  fevered 
brain.  As  angels  encamp  round  about  them  that 
fear  the  Lord,  and  as  Mercy  bends  in  tears  over 
the  good,  so  she  guarded  the  bedside  of  that 
troubled  heart.  Her  voice  was  the  music  of  hope 
to  his  disconsolate  ear,  sounding  in  his  own  ver- 
nacular. It  came  as  from  a  far  country,  with 
the  sweet  sound  of  home  ringing  in  his  ear.  The 


284  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

open  candor  of  her  full-beaming  eye  told  him  he 
had  a  friend.  Upon  her  soft,  warm  arm  she  pillowed 
his  aching  head,  when  she  brought  the  antidote  to 
his  lips,  and  prayed  as  she  presented  the  bitter 
drug.  She  bent  over  him  in  pity,  and  in  prayer, 
like  a  rainbow  of  hope  over  the  dying.  Then, 
with  tender  lily  hands,  she  smoothed  his  pillow, 
laved  his  brow,  parted  the  locks  of  his  anguish, 
and,  gazing  on  his  answering  features,  she  rested 
in  hope  for  his  recovery,  like  Faith  on  a  monu- 
ment. Her  heart  was  stirred  to  pity.  A  myste- 
rious power  had  led  her  to  that  sick-room,  and  a 
mysterious  influence  now  came  over  her  that  she 
could  not  comprehend. 

When  silence  reigned  in  the  vigils  of  the  night, 
and  none  but  spirit  voices  were  heard,  she  felt, 
she  knew  not  why, -her  heart  going  out  in  pity,  in 
a  manner  that  she  could  not  restrain.  As  the  sen- 
tinel stars,  passing  on  their  beat  through  the 
heavens,  stole  through  the  window,  and  glanced 
upon  her  fair  cheek,  they  saw  her  not  only  watch- 
ing, but  weeping.  Why  did  she  weep?  She 
knew  not  herself.  Her  big  heart  was  swelling 
and  overflowing,  but  by  what  power,  and  for  what 
cause,  she  could  not  tell.  As  if  penetrating  the 
mysterious  future,  and  solving  the  problem  of  her 
destiny,  her  large,  round,  lustrous  eye  was  fixed 
on  shadowy  vacancies ;  then  turning  her  thoughts 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  285 

on  that  child  of  sorrow,  still  she  wept.  From 
pitying  and  consoling  she  had  learned  to  love. 
Ah  !  little  did  that  young  man  know  what  love  was 
silently  beating  in  the  maiden's  heart.  At  last  she 
confessed  her  passion,  and  he  loved  her  in  return, 
with  a  grateful  heart.  Heaven  had  ordained  their 
fate  ;  no  man  can  resist  Fate's  decrees  ;  their  eyes 
met  in  mutual  admiration,  and  they  became  one. 

Now  she  had  an  object  for  living, — a  purpose,  a 
motive  for  action.  She  had  ventured  her  little 
bark  out  on  a  sea  of  sorrow,  and  had  plucked  up 
a  gem.  All  passionately,  and  hopefully,  from  its 
turbid  waters,  she  had  fished  up  a  pearl  that  was 
all  her  own.  For  years  she  had  lived,  as  flowers 
bloom  in  deserts,  with  none  to  inhale  the  exuber- 
ance of  their  odors.  Her  life  had  been  a  waste, 
an  aimless  vacuity,  neither  giving  nor  receiving 
the  pleasures  for  which  social  beings  were  created. 
Heaven  is  not  a  place  of  solitude,  and  holiness  of 
character  is  not  perfected  in  seclusion. 

When  they  were  joined  in  holy  wedlock  their 
little  home  became  a  paradise.  Love  was  sole 
king ;  all  other  passions  and  faculties  bowed  to  it ; 
its  beck  drew  audience,  its  look  was  but  to  com- 
mand, and  to  its  willing  sceptre  was  yielded  uni- 
versal obedience.  As  planets  in  their  orbits  move 
passively  and  harmoniously  around  their  common 
centre,  so,  in  the  orbit  of  God's  eternal  decrees, 


286  SHADOWY  HAND;   OR, 

as  sweetly  and  harmoniously  as  the  unwritten 
music  of  the  spheres  they  moved  round  love's 
central  orb,  and  drew  light  from  its  sun.  The 
four  rivers  of  Paradise  were  not  purer  or  more 
transparent  than  the  flow  of  their  spirits,  and  the 
warbling  strains  of  Pison  and  Gihon's  streams, 
dashing  over  sands  of  bdellium,  gold,  and  onyx 
stone,  were  not  sweeter  than  the  voice  of  their 
tender  hearts.  And  the  attendant  angels  on  Crea- 
tion's early  pair  were  not  more  solicitous  and  atten- 
tive than  they  were  to  each  other's  wants.  But, 
alas  !  death  once  entered  Paradise,  and  death  might 
enter  this  holy  bower.  These  hearts  were  too 
pure,  too  happy,  too  closely  united  to  live  together 
long  in  this  cruel,  heart-severing  world. 

It  is  midnight  at  that  quiet  home.  The  Bible 
has  been  read,  the  evening  hymn  sung,  and  prayer 
offered,  each  praying  for  a  blessing  upon  the 
other's  heart.  Now  balmy  Sleep  has  spread  its 
assuaging  wing  over  that  halcyon  couch,  and  weav- 
ing its  meshes  of  soft  oblivion  over  their  retiring 
senses,  at  last  has  locked  them  in  its  sweet  em- 
brac3.  Yet  there  is  a  murmur  in  the  ripples  of 
sleep.  Lo  !  on  that  white  pillow  and  that  ivory 
couch,  where  the  clear  full  moon  pours  down  upon 
the  features  of  that  sleeping  pair  its  light  of  gold, 
and  topaz,  and  amethyst,  baptizing  them  with  the 
flood  of  its  subdued  and  variegated  beams,  there 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  287 

w 

are  seen  tears  pouring  forth,  and  on  the  breath  of 
that  fair  heart  there  comes  a  sigh  ;  she  is  dreaming  ! 
Portentious  forebodings  terrify  her  visions,  and 
she  awakes  in  tears.  She  prints  the  warm  kiss  upon 
his  slumbering  cheek,  and  wakes  him  with  the 
dash  of  her  scalding  tears.  "Charles,"  she  said, 
"Charles,  I  fear  I  shall  die,  and  not  live  !  What  will 
you  do  when  I  am  gone  ?  " 

"Ah!  Julia,  say  not  so,"  he  cried;  "you  will 
live  ;  you  must  live  ;  you  cannot, —  you  shall  not 
die." 

And  with  consoling  voice  he  poured  a  flood  of 
comforting  words  in  her  aching  ear,  and  with  ten- 
der hand  he  smoothed  back  her  briny  locks,  as  he 
pillowed  her  head  upon  his  beating  heart,  but  all 
in  vain  :  her  hour  had  come, —  they  had  slept  their 
last  conjugal  sleep.  She  died  as  her  Saviour  died  ; 
she  gave  her  life  for  the  life  of  another.  And  all 
she  asked  in  return,  was  to  be  remembered. 

"Show^ny  infant  this  picture,"  said  she,  "and 
when  he  is  old  enough,  tell  him  it  is  the  picture  of 
his  mother."  Then,  thanking  God  that  she  had 
given  a  son  to  bear  the  image  and  the  name  of 
that  husband  to  future  generations,  she  died  as 
calmly  as  sinks  the  setting  sun,  growing  more 
splendid  in  its  expanding  disk,  and,  shining  with 
a  more  mellow  light  as  the  heat  of  the  day  is  past, 
it  prints  its  farewell  rays  of  peace  and  hope  upon 


288  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR,  ^ 

the  clouds,  and  hill-tops,  and  tall  church-spires, 
then  sinks  to  rise  in  a  brighter  sky,  and  shine  in 
another  world. 

She  had  lived  much  in  little  space.  Years  had 
been  crowded  into  weeks,  and  months  into  days. 
The  cup  of  her  pleasure  was  full  to  overflowing, 
and  she  took  it  almost  at  a  draught.  Yet  she 
would  not  have  it  otherwise ;  she  would  not  eke 
out  a  miserable  existence  in  solitude  and  selfish- 
ness, for  fear  of  meeting  the  perils  as  well  as  the 
pleasures  of  connubial  life.  "No  !  she  ventured 
upon  the  trip,  sailed  a  swift  voyage  of  enchant- 
ment, and,  as  God  had  decreed  it  to  be  short,  she 
was  submissive.  Ah  !  liberal  soul !  Always  gen- 
erous !  generous  in  living,  and  generous  in  dying. 
She  was  dove-like  in  purity,  dove-like  in  gentle- 
ness, dove-like  in  affection,  and  uncomplainingly, 
without  a  murmur,  dove-like  she  died.  She  died, 
leaving  a  pledge  of  that  one  year's  happiness  tell- 
ing the  father  what  a  dream  he  had  passetl  through, 
and  with  its  little  blue  eye  and  prattling  talk,  and 
mother-like  features,  reminding  the  father  of  one 
who  had  first  ventured  her  life  for  him,  and  then 
sacrificed  it  for  the  child. 

When  little  Julius  is  grown  up,  and  reads  these 
words,  let  him  remember  the  generosity  of  that 
noble  mother.  May  her  life ,  that  is  already  imaged 
on  his  heart,  be  as  the  seeds  of  flowering  and 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  289 

decaying  beauty,  germinating  with  increasing  vigor 
and  fragrance  over  the  grave  of  the  parent  stock ; 
ma}'  his  temper  and  passions  be  dove-like  ;  though 
he  have  no  mother's  arms  to  teach  him  the  passion 
of  love,  and  no  mother's  breast  to  lean  upon  for 
its  nourishment,  may  the  principle  imparted  by 
her  grow  spontaneously  into  the  ripe,  blooming 
fruit  of  dove-like  tenderness  and  love  ! 

Farewell,  White  Dove  !  Thy  advent  still  re- 
mains a  mystery,  the  unintelligible  roll  of  thy 
prophecy  is  yet  a  sealed  book.  Time  only  can 
reveal  its  purport.  Shrouded  in  the  impenetrable 
mist  of  the  unknown  future  it  lies  hid,  and  with  it 
all  our  destinies.  If  thou  earnest  to  warn  me  of 
danger,  thou  earnest  too  late  ;  the  blow  was  struck, 
I  had  already  fallen.  But  thy  coming  has  been  a 
comfort  to  me,  an  object  of  sweet  meditation, 
whereon  I  could  rest  my  weary  thoughts  in  time 
of  weakness  and  seclusion.  My  dark  imagination 
has  been  borne  by  the  inspiration  of  thy  buoyant 
wing  into  regions  of  brightness  and  felicity. 
Thou  hast  been  a  comfort  to  me  in  the  wakeful 
midnight  hour ;  thy  coming  has  been  as  a  friend 
from  a  far  country.  I  have  laid  the  weight  of  my 
dark  thoughts  upon  thee,  as  a  hand  is  laid  upon  the 
shoulders  of  a  friend.  I  have  embraced  thee  with 
the  arms  of  my  affection,  as  1  would  hang  upon 
the  neck  of  a  brother.  And  not  in  vain  have  I 
19 


290  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

confided  in  thee.  Thou  hast  borne  my  weary, 
drooping  spirits  up  from  the  slough  of  melancholy 
and  grief,  to  the  realms  of  light  and  hope.  In 
imagination  thou  hast  stood  upon  my  sleepless  pil- 
low, and  watched  by  my  side,  like  the  fabled  bird 
of  Jove.  So  mysterious  was  thy  coming  at  that 
eventful  hour,  it  seemed  almost  probable  that  thou 
hadst  been  sent  to  convey  my  spirit  home.  Yet  I 
still  live.  Thy  wing  seemed  like  the  wing  and  the 
ball  engraven  over  the  gate  of  eternity ;  thy  pres- 
ence and  departure,  like  the  wing  by  the  hour- 
glass, denoting  the  flight  of  time. 

Thy  whiteness  has  been  a  comfort  to  me  ;  O  that 
my  soul  were  as  pure  !  O  that  I  was  as  pure  as 
the  eider-down  of  thy  spotless  breast !  O  that 
my  accounts  in  judgment  were  as  acceptable  as 
thine  ! 

Thy  coming  to  Boston  has  been  like  my  own  : 
alonestranger  among  areservedand  distant  people. 
Some  mysterious  power  sent  thee,  —  perhaps  the 
same  that  induced  me  to  risk  my  all  on  the  altar 
for  suffering  humanity.  May  thou  be  favored,  as 
I  have  been,  with  friends.  Though  the  outside  of 
Boston  seems  cold,  and  the  stranger  is  kept  a  long 
while  knocking,  yet  within  there  are  the  fires  of 
warm  hearts,  and  stores  of  generous  supplies. 
Soon,  like  thee,  I  go  to  the  hills  and  wild  woods 
of  my  native  home.  Like  thee,  may  I  bear  good 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  291 

tidings  from  this  city  of  the  Puritan  Fathers. 
Like  thee,  I  still  linger,  knowing  it  better  for  me 
to  go,  but,  with  the  warm  susceptibilities  of  a  ten- 
der heart,  I  still  remain  lingering,  and  Loving  to 
tarry. 

Farewell,  kind  "Watcher  1  The  night  of  my 
sickness,  I  trust,  is  far  spent,  the  day-spring  of 
health  is  rising,  and  the  dawn  of  my  hopes  is  at 
hand.  Thou  hast  tarried,  like  the  angel  with  Jacob, 
till  the  dawn  of  the  day ;  and  thou  dost  not  retire 
without  leaving  a  blessing.  Sweet  have  been  the 
benedictions  of  thy  visitation.  In  the  lone  cham- 
ber, when  my  lamp  was  burning  low,  amidst  the 
shadows  of  the  night,  and  the  sleepless,  restless 
hours  of  despondency,  thou  hast  been  my  compan- 
ion and  comforter.  Sweet  companion !  blessed 
comforter  !  fit  companion  for  my  weary  thoughts 
in  time  of  trouble. 

Now,  with  the  parting  shadows,  thou  art  going, 
like  the  wing  of  time.  Thy  wings  are  spread, 
thy  flight  is  set ;  one  spring,  and  I  see  thee  no 
more.  As  a  cloud  borne  upward  thou  dost 
ascend,  till  thou  art  parted  from  our  view,  never 
to  be  seen  again.  As  the  years  before  the  flood, 
thou  art  gone.  Like  the  single  chance  that  fortune 
gives  to  the  vigilant  and  the  brave,  thou  makest 
but  one  visit,  one  offering.  If  we  knew  the  exact 
purport  of  thy  mission,  we  would  act  at  once. 
But  time  must  unravel  the  mystery. 


292  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

Again,  sweet  bird,  in  thy  receding  flight,  fare- 
well !  The  interest  gathers  as  thou  art  going ;  the 
eye  lingers  upon  thee,  the  memory  retains  thee 
and  thoughts  follow  thee  with  increasing  solicitude. 
Thou  hast  come  to  our  chapel,  bringing  .the  olive 
branch  of  peace.  Emblem  of  our  Mission  !  with 
thee  we  bear  peace  and  good-will  towards  men. 
May  the  wing  of  our  charities  spread  wider  by  the 
lesson  we  learn  from  thee  !  May  many  an  orphan 
and  widow  be  blessed  by  resting  under  the  shadow 
of  our  wing  !  May  the  worshippers  in  our  chapel 
ever  be  peaceful  and  dove-like  !  May  thy  wings, 
hovering  over  our  altars,  be  as  the  wings  of  the 
cherubim  over  the  mercy-seat !  Holy  bird,  adieu  ! 
May  thy  future  be  peaceful  and  happy  !  May  the 
hand  that  feeds  thee  be  kind  to  thee,  may  the  eye 
that  sees  thee  admire  thee,  and  may  the  fingers 
that  caress  thee  treat  thee  tenderly  !  A  blessing 
on  thy  advent  and  exit !  Bird  of  purity !  bap- 
tismal type  of  the  eternal  spirit,  like  a  spirit  hast 
thou  come,  and  like  a  spirit  hast  thou  gone. 
Chosen  bird,  prophetic  bird  of  promise,  sacrificial 
bird,  redemption  fee  of  the  Carpenter's  Son, — 
the  Son  of  Mary  I  The  poor  man's  offering,  com- 
ing to  the  poor  man's  meeting  to  sympathize  with 
the  poor  man's  preacher  in  the  time  of  his  afflic- 
tion! —  Heaven's  commissioner  I  holy  bird,  fare- 
well! 


LIFE-STRUGGLES?  (293 


CHAPTER    XXIX."* 


First  Shot  from  Fort  Sumpter. — Drill  in  Franklin  School- 
ho.ise.  —  Bitter  Partings.  — Massachusetts  First  Regiment. 
—  Return  Home.  —  Ovation.  —  Story  of  Nicholas  S.  Hall.— 
Funeral  Service.  —  His  Mother  at  the  Hospital.  —  Cries  f o*. 
"  Water  !  water  ! "  —  What  has  the  Soldier  done  ?  —  Wha. 
shall  we  do  for  him  ? 

HEN  the  first  shot  from  Eort  Sumpter 
was  heard,  and  the  war  broke  out,  part 
of  the  Franklin  School  Building  was 
used  as  a  recruiting-room ;  the  religious 
meeting  was  in  one  room,  the  night-school  in  the 
other  rooms,  and  soldiers  were  drilling  over-head, 
for  the  war.  The  tramp  !  tramp  !  of  the  soldier, 
and  the  jar  of  the  grounding  of  arms,  shook  the 
house.  The  solemnities  of  our  meetings,  how- 
ever, were  not  disturbed  by  the  martial  sounds, 
but  rather  increased. 

After  the  battle  of  Bull  Run,  the  thought  of 
carnage,  and  of  those  who  had  gone  to  the  war, 
and  the  many  that  were  dressed  in  mourning, 
widows  and  fatherless,  all  tended  only  to  enhance 
the  interest  of  the  meeting.  The  Massachusetts 
First  Regiment,  commanded  by  Colonel  Cowdin, 
made  this  place  their  head-quarters.  The  praying 


294  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

bands  became  familiarized  with  the  muskets, 
knapsacks,  and  accoutrements  of  the  soldiers. 
There  were  many  tearful  partings,  farewell 
benedictions,  and  prayers  tendered  to  the  depart 
ing  father,  brother,  and  son.  Many  a  fona 
embrace  of  husband,  lover  and  brother — many 
a  parting  tear — were  witnessed  by  these  walls. 

At  length  the  regiment  returned,  but  with  de- 
pleted ranks,  in  time  to  attend  the  funeral  of  Private 
Nicholas  S.  Hall,  Company  I,  who  was  wounded, 
by  a  ball  in  the  spine,  at  Fair  Oaks.  The  pro- 
cession was  escorted  by  the  regiment,  and  the 
little  carriage  of  the  deceased,  draped  with  crape 
and  flags,  drawn  by  his  pony,  with  empty  seat, 
followed  the  hearse. 

Some  two  years  he  had  lingered  in  decline. 
His  mother  heard,  by  telegram,  he  was  wounded, 
and 'fleeing  to  Washington,  found  him  in  the 
Stone  Hospital.  Her  boy  was  alive,  and  that 
was  all.  The  fatigues  of  the  journey  from  the 
field,  the  exposure  on  the  way,  the  oppressive 
heat,  and  the  nature  of  the  wound,  all  had 
brought  him  near  to  his  grave.  His  mind  was 
wandering,  for  he  had  been  stupefied  with 
narcotics  to  prevent  his  groans  from  disturbing 
his  fellows. 

Like  an  infant  she  watched  him,  pitied  him, 
and  loved  him.  His  petulancy,  his  nervousness, 


UFE-STRUGGLES.  295 

his  peevishness  and  fretfulness,  were  not  from 
him — her  kind-hearted  boy  —  they  were  from 
his  disease.  She  everlooked  them  all,  and  pitied 
him  the  more  for  his  sufferings.  It  was  no* 
a .  task,  but  a  glorious  privilege  to  watch  by  his 
side  and  administer  to  his  wants.  A  mother 
forget  her  son?  No,  never  !  Now  he  was  twitch- 
ing with  the  jerk  of  the  ambulance,  now  he  was 
in  the  midst  of  the  battle,  and  rushing  to  the 
charge ;  now  he  was  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy, 
calling  for  his  comrades  to  rescue  him ;  now  he 
was  wounded,  and  left  on  the  field ;  now  he  was 
dying,  with  no  friend  near.  Oh  !  the  agony  of 
both  mind  and  body.  One  day  he  found  a  little 
quiet  sleep,  and  fell  into  a  gentle  dream.  He 
dreamed  of  home ;  he  dreamed  that  he  lay  on  a 
mother's  couch,  and  his  mother's  hand  lay  upon 
his  brow ;  he  heard  his  mother's  voice,  he  saw 
her  image,  then  strove  to  reach  out  the  hand  to 
embrace  her,  but  he  could  not  move.  He  awoke  ! 
it  was  not  all  a  dream ;  his  mother  was  there, 
and  pressing  his  brow.  With  opening,  wonder- 
ing eyes,  half  awake  and  half  asleep,  and  half 
deranged,  he  gazed  upon  the  image  before  him, 
whose  dark  eyes  were  looking  down  tearfully 
upon  his  face,  — those  tender,  motherly  features  ! 
—  and  a  strange  sensation  came  over  him,  as  if 
recalling  some  indistinct  image  of  the  past. 


296  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

"Nicholas,"  said  she,  in  gentle  tone,  "Nicholas, 
don't  you  know  me  ?  It  is  your  mother." 

As  she  smoothed  his  hair  and  kissed  his  cheek, 
he  gazed  in  wonder  until  he  came  to  his  senses. 
Then,  with  mingled  emotions  of  gratitude  and 
love,  such  as  a  wounded  soldier  only  can  feel  when 
thinking  of  mother  and  home,  he  exclaimed,  in 
pathetic  strains,  "Oh,  mother,  is  it  you?  How 
did  you  get  here?  I  was  thinking  about  you, 
mother.  Oh,  this  cruel  war!  Where  is  Harry? 
Is  father  dead?  I'm  afraid  I  sha'n't  get  well, 
mother ;  I  sha'n't  see  sister  Eda  any  more." 

"  Don't  say  so,  my  son,"  she  said,  as  she  turned 
away  to  weep,  "you  must  get  well ;  I  have  come 
to  watch  by  your  side  till  you  get  better." 

"Have  you,  mother?  Oh,  how  good  it  seems 
to  see  my  mother !  I  have  had  no  one  to  talk 
with  me  and  pray  with  me ;  will  you  stay  with 
me,  mother?" 

"Yes,  my  son,  but  you  must  not  weep  so;  it 
will  prove  your  death." 

"  Oh,  mother,  I  will  not  weep ;  I  will  keep 
quiet ;  I  will  not  speak,  if  you  will  but  stay." 

She  promised  to  tarry,  but  the  rules  of  "red 
tape  "  prevented  her  from  remaining  in  the  room. 
There  were  twelve  patients  there  ;  she  offered  to 
nurse  them  all  if  she  could  but  remain.  This 
was  not  allowed ;  but  she  could  lodge  in  an  upper 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  297 

room  of  the  same  building.  She  lodged  there, 
but  could  not  sleep.  Thoughts  of  her  son 
troubled  her.  She  listened  to  every  sound  below. 
"  Nurse  !  nurse  !  please  give  me  some  water  !  " 
The  nurse  was  asleep,  for  he  had  watched  there 
day  and  night.  Again  she  heard  the  cry,  "Water  ! 
water !  Nurse,  will  you  let  me  die  within  hear- 
ing of  my  mother  ?  " 

That  was  Nicholas's  voice.  She  sprang  to  her 
feet,  she  broke  into  the  *room,  she  made  herself 
a  necessity,  and  watched  by  his  side  for  two  weeks, 
until  he  was  able  to  be  brought  home. 

At  home  he  recovered  so  far  as  to  ride  out, 
but  the  excitement -caused  by  the  return  of  his 
regiment,  with  his  two  brothers,  prostrated  him. 
Old  scenes  and  sufferings,  and  old  battles,  passed 
before  his  mind ;  the  poor,  weak  boy  fell  at  the 
very  thought  of  his  former  dangers.  His  mother 
said  to  him,  "  You  are  not  going  to  leave  us,  are 
you,  Nicholas?  " 

"Not  quite  yet,  mother,  I  must  go  by  and 
by." 

The  day  but  one  before  he  died,  I  talked  with 
him  about  his  hope ;  he  smiled,  and  said  he  felt 
himself  forgiven,  and  ready  to  go.  On  the 
morning  of  his  death  he  called  Harry,  who  had 
just  returned  from  the  war,  to  his  side,  and  grasp- 
ing him  by  the  hand,  said,  "  Harry,  I  am  going ; 


298  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

I  want  you  to  stand  by  me  as  you  did  at  Fair 
Oaks.  Stand  by  me,  my  brother  !"  And  he  stood 
by  him  to  the  last. 

It  is  a  beautiful  Saturday  evening  of  June. 
The  dying  soldier  lies  in  his  chamber,  breathing 
shorter  and  shorter,  with  Harry,  and  Edward, 
and  Eda,  and  mother  by  his  side.  The  bells  of 
the  various  factories  are  striking  the  knell  of  the 
week.  The  men  are  being  paid  off,  the  streets 
are  full  of  returning  workmen.  The  bills  of  the 
week  are  being  settled,  children  are  preparing 
for  the  Sabbath,  servants  are  receiving  their 
wages,  clerks  are  dismissed,  and  all  the  weary 
of  mankind  are  looking  for  a  day  of  rest.  Sweet 
rest !  rest  for  the  laborer  and  the  soldier.  The 
sun  is  setting  in  the  Western  horizon  in  a  sea  of 
crimson  and  gold.  As  its  departing  rays  burst 
on  the  chimney-top  of  the  adjoining  building, 
the  dying  inau  opens  his  eyes  and  gazes  upon 
their  changing  hues ;  then  sinking  back  upon  his 
pillow,  as  if  passing  away  with  the  setting  sun,  he 
closes  his  own  eyes,  and  without  a  pain,  or  a  groan, 
or  a  struggle,  like  a  sleeping  infant  settling  into 
its  mother's  arms,  he  falls  into  the  arms  of  his 
Saviour,  and  sleeps  the  sleep  that  knows  no 
waking.  His  two  little  pet  robins  in  their  cage 
died  the  same  evening,  and  the  house  of  suffering 
became  the  chamber  of  death. 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  299 

He  has  fought  his  last  battle,  his  weary  marches 
are  over,  the  bugle  will  not  wake  him,  nor  the 
drum-beat  startle  him  from  his  quiet  rest.  No 
more  will  he  stand  on  picket-guard  and  pace  the 
dreary  hours  of  the  night ;  no  more  stand  in  the 
thickest  of  the  fight,  till  the  fatal  bullet  reaches 
its  mark.  No  more  ask  Death  to  relieve  him  from 
pain  ;  he  has  fought  the  good  fight,  and  gone  to 
his  reward.  The  ball  has  at  last  accomplished  its 
work,  —  the  ball  which  he  carried  to  his  grave. 
Great  have  been  his  sufferings ;  his  was  the  sub- 
limity of  agony :  he  died  daily  ;  he  died  a  hundred 
deaths  in  one.  The  ball  in  the  spinal  marrow 
had  broken  the  nervous  connection,  and  his  lower 
limbs  were  palsied  and  perishing ;  but  there  was 
sympathy  enough  between  the  parts  to  produce 
the  severest  pain.  Life  hung  like  a  needle  on  a 
pivot,  with  the  pole  of  the  needle  pointing 
towards  the  grave.  The  least  deviation  shook 
the  compass  like  an  aspen  leaf.  The  least  noise, 
a  breath  of  wind,  the  damp  dew,  or  changes  of 
weather,  or  signs  of  approaching  storm,  filled  his 
marrow  with  rheum,  and  threw  him  into  trepi- 
dations and  convulsions.  When  first  brought 

o 

home,  his  shrieks  alarmed  the  whole  neighborhood. 
Eyes  wept  in  pity  in  distant  dwellings,  and 
hearts  shuddered  at  their  own  windows  as  they 
contemplated  the  cruelties  of  war.  Nothing 


300  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

could  abate  the  pain  but  an  injection  of  arsenic 
and  chloroform,  to  kill  the  nerve.  This  produced 
quiet  for  a  few  hours,  but  was  destroying  life. 
Yet  he  clung  to  earth,  and  light,  and  life,  and 
when  quiet  came  it  seemed  to  him  a  heaven.  He 
looked  on  the  flowers,  and  the  green  fields,  and 
desired  to  roam  the  carpeted  earth  again.  He 
saw  the  boys  angling,  and  wished  to  be  baiting 
his  hook.  When  able  to  be  carried  out  in  his 
little  carriage,  his  gratitude  knew  no  bounds. 

Great  was  his  mortification  when  he  found  that 
he  could  never  walk  again.  He  must  forever  drag 
his  lifeless  limbs  along  like  a  creeping  infant. 
His  manhood  was  gone ;  he  could  no  more  walk 
erect,  and  lift  up  his  face  to  heaven,  and  say,  "  I  am 
a  man."  He  was  mortified  to  think  that  in  his 
helplessness  he  might  everywhere  be  in  the  way. 
Indeed,  he  seemed  in  the  way  when  he  went  out, 
in  the  way  of  passing  footsteps,  and  his  carriage 
was  in  the  way  of  the  teams  and  cars  of  the  street. 
He  would  be  in  the  way  at  public  gatherings,  at  the 
social  board,  and  on  festival  occasions,  and  in  the 
way  at  church ;  therefore  he  never  entered  church. 
When  his  regiment  returned  with  the  honors  that 
Boston  gives  to  her  defenders,  he  would  have  given 
all  he  had  in  the  world  to  stand  up  with  them  in 
-Faneuil  Hall,  at  the  ovation  for  their  reception. 
Then,  most  of  all,  he  felt  his  humiliation.  Oh  I 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  301 

that  he  had  been  shot  in  the  neck,  or  limb,  or 
breast,  —  anywhere  if  he  could  but  walk.  He 
parted  with  his  newl}' -arrived  comrades  at  the  door, 
after  following  them  in  the  procession  ;  then  he 
drove  home,  and  wept  like  a  child.  He  wept,  and 
sobbed,  and  groaned  as  if  his  heart  would  break, 
when  he  thought  of  that  festal  hour,  and  of  his 
abject  condition.  This  was  the  climax  of  his  sor- 
row, and  nearly  ended  his  life. 

Peace  be  to  the  ashes  of  the  wounded  soldier 
who  has  returned  home  to  die  !  Green  be  the  turf 
above  him  !  Hallowed  be  his  grave  !  Let  tender 
hands  smooth  the  mound,  let  sympathizing  fingers 
carve  the  name  upon  the  stone !  Let  sweetest 
flowers  be  planted  on  the  grave ;  let  them  bear  in 
their  fragrant  odors  the  incense  of  a  country's 
gratitude  !  Let  the  rising  beams  of  Morning,  all 
radiant  with  Christian  hope  and  promise,  salute 
the  tomb,  and  let  the  parting  rays  of  Evening  smile 
with  a  sweet  "good-night"  as  they  reluctantly 
decline  from  the  shadows  of  one  who  has  fallen  in 
defence  of  his  country  ! 

Lst  a  bereaved,  widowed  mother  bend  over  it 
with  gushing  tears  and  prayers,  petitioning  God 
for  grace  to  submit  to  the  stern  decrees  of  war  ! 
Let  the  dewy  tear-drops  of  Evening  fall  with  her 
tears  ;  let  the  starry  lamps  of  Heaven  watch  as  she 
has  watched  by  his  bed-side  during  the  lone  hours 


302  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

of  night !  Let  the  breezes  of  Evening,  as  they 
whistle  through  the  mournful  pines,  in  wailing 
dirges  of  sorrow,  kiss  the  tomb  where  the  hero  lies  ! 
Let  youthful  footsteps  approach  it  with  future 
promise,  bearing  floral  offerings  of  gratitude  for 
generations  yet  unborn  !  Let  the  bent  form  of 
Honor,  loaded  with  the  weight  of  years,  come  at 
last,  and  do  reverence  !  Let  the  fugitive  pilgrims 
of  Liberty  bow  the  knee  by  its  side,  and  tfiank 
Heaven  for  such  men  !  Let  them  swear  by  the 
tomb  that  this  blood  shall  not  be  spilled  in  vain  ! 
Let  meek-eyed  Patience  perch  upon  the  cold, 
inanimate  stone,  and  Avait  for  victory  ! 

The  soldier  has  been  a  wall  of  tire  round  about 
us,  and  the  glory  in  our  midst.  His  breast  has 
stood  between  us  and  danger,  and  received  the 
shots  intended  for  us  and  our  children.  A  fiery 
palisade  of  living,  breathing  breastworks  has 
extended  from  the  Potomac  to  the  Rio  Grande. 
He  has  set  valor  at  a  premium,  made  our  lives 
precious,  homes  secure,  property  safe,  government 
free,  flag  honored ;  he  has  wiped  out  our  disgrace 
with  his  own  blood ;  he  has  shown  that  we  love 
our  country,  and  can  fight  for  it ;  that  Republican- 
ism is  the  strongest ;  it  can  fight  harder,  and  raise 
more  men  and  money,  than  any  other  government. 
He  has  established  our  glory  among  the  dynas- 
ties of  the  world.  All  we  have,  and  are,  and 


UTE-STRUGGLES.  303 

hope  for  as  a  nation,  we  owe,  under  God,  to  him. 
If  there  ever  was  a  being  under  heaven  whom  I 
could  adore,  it  is  the  soldier.  His  scars  are  next 
to  those  of  rny  Saviour ;  his  brow  wears  the  thorny 
crown  of  Care,  hio  groans  awaken  my  grief,  his 
bloody  sweat  stirs  the  depth  of  my  pity,  his  bro- 
ken limbs  remind  me  of  what  would  have  been, 
the  broken  pillars  of  our  government  without  him. 
Th<*e  is  no  music  to  me  like  the  clump,  clump, 
clump,  of  the  soldier's  crutches.  As  he  passes  by 
me  I  feel  like  bowing  my  head  in  reverence,  and 
saying  to  myself,  "  There  goes  the  man  to  whom  I 
owe  my  liberties." 

We  will  welcome  him  to  the  hospitalities  of  our 
homes,  and  will  share  with  him,  if  need  be,  our  last 
crust ;  our  children  shall  reverence  him  ;  offices  of 
trust  shall  be  granted  him ;  if  he  have  but  one 
arm  to  fill  the  place,  that  arm  shall  receive  double 
wages  ;  his  family  shall  be  at  ease  and  affluence ; 
his  widow  shall  feel  proud  of  her  position,  and  his 
children,  with  the  mantle  of  his  honor  foiling  upon 
them,  shout  with  pride  and  exultation,  —  "My 
father  was  a  soldier,  sir  ! " 

Massachusetts  First  Regiment, —  oh,  brave 
men  !  veterans  of  three  years'  service  !  Shattered 
remnant  of  nearly  two  thousand  men,  maimed, 
scarred,  bronzed  !  heroes  of  thirty  battles  !  wel- 
come, thrice  welcome,  home  !  You  have  returned 


304  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

in  time  to  pay  your  comrades  the  honors  of  a  Chris- 
tian burial.  Welcome  to  the  sanctuary  of  God  ! 
welcome  to  our  hearts !  Merciful  Heaven  has 
shielded  you  in  the  hour  of  battle  ;  God,  and  your 
own  right  arms,  have  been  your  defence  !  Honor 
crowns  each  brow ;  glory  perches  on  your  stand- 
ard ;  your  tattered  ensign  speaks  of  victory. 
Valiant,  self-sacrificing,  devoted  men  !  You  en- 
listed before  enormous  bounties  were  offered. 
Patriotism  called,  and  you  led  the  van.  First 
Eegiment  of  the  United  States  to  enlist  for  three 
years  !  Second  to  pass  through  Baltimore  !  First 
in  habits  of  cleanliness  !  first  in  brigade  inspec- 
tion !  first  in  sending  home  your  allotment-money  ! 
first  to  be  deployed  as  skirmishers  !  first  to  stand 
at  the  point  of  the  wedge  in  the  van  of  the  fight, 
and  fewest  to  die  in  camp  !  Many  have  died,  but 
they  have  died  with  honorable  wounds,  facing  the 
foe.  Officers  of  other  regiments  have  complained 
that  Colonel  Cowdin  needlessly  exposed  his  men. 
If  so,  how  is  it  that  you  love  your  old  commander 
so  well?  How  is  it  that  so  few  were  taken  pris- 
oners ?  Is  it  not  more  glorious  to  die  with  honor- 
able wounds  than  to^rot  in  the  corruptions  of  the 
camp?  By  the  morale  of  your  men  you  have 
driven  back  the  pestilence  which  is  more  destruc- 
tive than  battle.  Let  wives,  mothers,  and  sisters 
be  proud ;  let  Boston  do  honor  to  the  returning 
brave. 


TJFE-STRUGGLES.  305 

Many,  alas !  have  not  returned.  Many  lie  in 
unmarked  graves.  Their  bodies  are  far  away,  but 
their  spirits  are  here,  still  clinging  to  their  colors. 
There  I  see  Major  Chandler,  the  gentleman  and 
the  scholar ;  there  Lieut.  Gill,  Lieut.  Harris,  and 
there  the  pure-minded  Lieut.  Mandeville,  and 
there  a  list  of  dead  outnumbering  the  living. 
They  sleep,  but  their  spirits  wake  ;  they  watch  our 
movements,  and  smile  to  think  they  are  not  for- 
gotten by  their  comrades  and  friends  in  this  day's 
services.  Hallowed  names  !  noble  martyrs  I  Never 
to  be  forgotten  so  long  as  Blackburn's  Ford,  York- 
town,  Williamsburg,  Fair  Oaks  and  Malvern  Hill 
are  rendered  immortal  by  their  deeds  1 
20 


306  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

Address  to  Returned  Soldiers. —  Tablets  to  tlie  Unreturned.— 
Christian  Soldier.  — Personal  Conflicts.  — Every  Man  to  be 
engaged.  —  More  Privates,  less  Officers.  —  Martial  Lan- 
guage. —  Call  for  Volunteers.  —  Position  of  the  Enemy.  — 
Strength,  yet  Inaction  of  our  Forces.  —  Latter-day  Warfare. 
—  Better  Times  coming. 

HE  following  address  was  delivered  to  the 
soldiers  of  our  congregation  who  had  re- 
turned  from  the  war.  Many  had  drilled 
here,  and  enlisted  in  this  building,  and 
thence  departed  direct  to  the  field.  Upon  their 
return,  ovations  of  welcome  were  given  them, 
while  sweet  memories  were  revived  of  the  unre- 
turning  brave. 

We  had  no  building  of  our  own  in  which  to 
erect  tablets,  but  upon  the  tablets  of  our  hearts 
there  were  inscribed  names  and  memories  never 
to  be  forgotten. 

Sermon  to  Returned  Soldiers.  —  "  Fight  the  good 
fight."— 1  Tim.  vi.  12.  "Soldiers  of  the  cross  ! 
conscripts  of  heaven  !  let  us  talk  a  little  about  war. 
"  Since  it  was  declared  that  the  seed  of  the 
woman  should  bruise  the  serpent's  head,  there 
have  been  two  antagonistic  principles  at  variance 


UFE-STRUGGLES.  307 

with  each  other,  and  continually  at  war ;  and  what- 
ever peace-loving  man  may  decree,  and  whatever 
peace-gathered  conventions  may  resolve,  it  cannot 
be  otherwise  until  the  great  enemy  of  mankind  is 
chained,  and  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  become 
the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  His  Christ.  There- 
fore, to  bring  about  these  peaceful  times,  we  are 
commanded,  even  by  the  God  of  Peace,  to  fight ; 
are  commanded  to  'quit  ourselves  like  men.' 

K I  am  aware  that  the  profession  of  arms  among 
the  soldiers  of  the  cross  consists  too  much  in 
name ;  that  many  have  a  name  to  fight,  who  raise 
not  a  finger  in  battle.  Many  have  lost  their  vigor, 
many  have  retired  on  parole,  and  many  have 
deserted.  Many  officers,  ceasing  to  do  active  ser- 
vice in  camp,  have  repaired  to  splendid  mansions, 
and  appear  only  once  a  week,  or  on  Sabbath  mus- 
ter-days. They  still  retain  their  titles  and  emolu- 
ments, although  they  have  thrown  off  the  military 
dress,  and  have  ceased  to  give  out  orders  in  mar- 
tial language. 

"  Then,  in  the  face  of  most  appalling  inroads 
upon  our  religion,  and  most  dangerous  incursions 
upon  our  faith,  both  the  common  soldiers  and  the 
commisioned  officers  are  criminally  delinquent. 
And  although,  on  the  first  day  of  the  week,  mul- 
titudes are  seen  marching  up  to  rendezvous,  for 
exercise  and  drill,  dressed  in  uniform  perhaps,  yet 


308  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

their  dress  and  their  drill  indicate  very  little  of 
the  bearing  of  a  soldier. 

"  We  are  to  speak  of  personal  conflicts  in  the 
inner  life  ;  then  of  general  warfare.  Every  man 
living  is  born  to  doubt,  —  to  doubt  God's  Provi- 
dence, and  especially  His  Revelation.  Our  first 
struggle  is  with  unbelief.  The  weapons  requisite 
are  study,  meditation,  and  prayer.  "We  doubt 
because  we  neglect  the  Word ;  if  we  study  at  all,  it 
is  to  criticise  and  condemn.  But  to  study  honestly, 
and  allow  the  truth  to  reveal  the  corruption  of  our 
hearts,  is  far  from  our  purpose.  Therefore  we 
are  guilty  in  doubting,  because  we  refuse  the  light. 
The  ostrich,  by  hiding  his  head  in  the  sand,  does 
not  evade  the  pursuer,  and  we  cannot  avoid  the 
judgments  of  God  by  closing  our  eyes  against 
them.  Then  study  the  Word.  If  it  be  true,  it  iq 
awfully  true. 

"Contemplate  this  great  theme  :  Has  God  reveal- 
ed His  will  to  man  ?  Has  man  sinned  ?  Is  he  guilty  ? 
What  must  be  his  punishment,  especially  if  he 
refuses  mercy  ?  Think  upon  it,  and  then  pray  over 
it.  Prayer  is  the  mighty  battering-ram  that  breaks 
down  the  doors  of  unbelief.  It  is  the  lever  that 
overturns  the  kingdom  of  darkness,  —  the  key  that 
unlocks  the  store-house  of  heaven. 

"  Then  let  our  knees  be  bent,  our  eyes  turned 
upwards,  and  our  hands  raised  to  heaven  for  help. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  309 

Pray  until  darkness  be  expelled.  Watch  the  mov- 
ings  of  the  Spirit ;  watch  and  pray,  and  when  you 
hear  a  '  sound  of  going  in  the  tops  of  the  mulberry 
trees,  then  bestir  yourself.'  To  prayer,  then,  O 
ye  soldiers  of  Christ !  to  prayer  !  Bow  the  knee. 
As  soldiers  in  front  ranks  bend  the  knee  to  repel 
a  charge,  bow  the  knee.  Attention,  soldiers ! 
Every  man  upon  his  knees,  hands  up,  eyes  raised, 
and  knees  bowed,  waiting  for  your  commission .v 
Now  rise  and  advance  upon  the  foe.  Charge  I 
charge !  for  '  the  kingdom  of  heaven  suffereth 
'violence,  and  the  violent  take  it  by  force.' 

wYe  veterans  fresh  from  Gettysburg,  ye  know 
what  war  is  ;  ye  whose  empty  sleeves,  and  crutches, 
and  maimed  limbs  tell  of  your  prowess  ;  ye  know 
a  soldier's  duty.  How  many  battles  have  been  lost 
because  all  the  marshalled  forces  were  not  brought 
into  action  ?  The  Church  fails  because  she  does 
not  employ  half  her  resources.  That  church  is 
the  most  flourishing  which  can  set  all  her  members 
at  work,  and  that  preacher  the  most  effective  who 
>  can  give  employment  to  the  greatest  number  of 
laborers.  A  few  officers  in  the  front  ranks  cannot 
do  all  the  fighting ;  and  a  preacher  and  a  few  lead- 
ers, the  only  ones  to  be  heard  in  meeting,  will 
never  conquer  the  world.  Meetings  should  be 
appointed  in  every  nook  and  corner, —  meetings 
enough  to  give  every  professor,  male  and  female, 


310  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

an  opportunity  to  speak.  Then  let  them  speak  of 
experience  ;  old  soldiers  can  teach  the  young  be^t 
by  experience,  and  Christian  experience  is  the 
loudest  preaching.  Then  come  out  from  your  hid- 
ing places,  O  ye  banished  saints  !  there  is  fighting 
to  do  !  The  private  ranks  must  be  filled  ;  fighting- 
men  are  needed ,  and  not  commissioned  idlers ; 
common  soldiers  must  do  the  fighting. 

"  Little  spindles  twist  the  yarn ;  small  gearing 
weaves  the  web  ;  little  wheels  move  fastest,  and 
are  in  closest  affinity  with  the  workmen.  Then 
let  us  set  the  little  wheels  in  motion  ;  let  every  * 
one  be  in  its  place — a  'wheel  in  the  middle  of  a 
wheel '  —  and  let  every  one  have  a  connection 
with  its  fellow.  All  wheels  are  dead  weights 
without  a  connection  ;  and  Church  members  may 
die  with  nothing  to  do  without  proper  sympathy 
with  each  other.  Let  us  not  despise  the  day  of 
small  things.  The  largest  animals  are  not  the 
most  useful,  nor  the  most  active.  Behemoths 
cannot  build  islands,  but  little  coral  insects  can 
do  it.  By  millions  they  labor  together,  and 
build  the  vast  rock,  until  it  rises  above  the  wave 
and  becomes  the  habitation  of  man.  Whales  are 
not  fighting  animals,  but  are  driven  about  and 
killed  by  the  little  sword-fish,  the  killer,  and 
the  thresher.  Little  animals  move  swiftest  and 
multiply  fastest.  Little  birds  are  the  sweetest 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  '  311 

singers  ;  small  vipers  are  the  most  deadly.  Then 
watch  the  little  foxes  that  destroy  the  lender 
vine. 

"The  shoulders  are  good  for  bearing  heavy 
weights,  and  hod-men  move  slowly ;  but  the  fingers, 
the  tongue,  and  the  brain  move  swiftest,  and  wield 
the  greatest  moral  power.  Then  let  every  finger 
be  working  for  the  Lord ;  let  every  tongue  be 
speaking  of  His  goodness,  and  every  brain  de- 
vising something  to  do.  Rouse  up  the  neglected 
part  of  community ;  kitchen-work  is  done  by 
servants,  and  the  hardest  fighting  by  common 
soldiers.  Then  to  arms  !  to  arms  !  O  ye  idlers. 
God  calls  to  arms  !  Ye  have  enlisted  where  there 
is  no  leave  of  absence,  no  parole,  no  discharge. 
Then  do  your  duty !  Be  at  your  place,  at  the 
circle  of  prayer,  at  the  Sabbath-school,  in  dis- 
tributing tracts,  in  visiting  the  sick,  in  comforting 
the  mourning,  in  feeding  the  poor,  and  in  preach- 
ing by  the  way. 

"Right  in  the  face  of  our  mock  parade  and 
sham  fighting,  let  us  examine  the  enemy's  works. 
No  accurate  observer  can  doubt  that  the  churches 
have  failed  to  be  effectual  upon  the  masses. 
Cushioned  seats  and  high  rents  do  not  attract 
them,  or,  if  once  attracted,  the  preaching  does 
not  draw  them  again.  Scepticism  is  multiplying 
its  castles  and  opening  its  batteries,  even  on  the 


312  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

Sabbath,  to  more  persons  than  are  found  in  our 
churches.  This  is  done  in  drinking-saloons,  and 
by  light  reading  and  social  converse.  The 
churches  themselves  have  lost  the  aggressive, 
war-like  spirit ;  they  have  degenerated  in  doctrine 
as  well  as  practice.  There  is  scarcely  a  church 
or  denomination,  Armenian  or  Calviuistic,  that 
abides  by  its  old  doctrinal  landmarks.  And,  as 
seen  by  the  recent  monetary  crises,  confidence 
in  society  is  being  lost,  corporations  are  suspected, 
directors  are  proved  defaulters,  politics  is  a  tool 
for  corruption,  religion  has  degenerated  into 
form;  not  one-fourth  of  the  people  profess  any 
religion  at  all,  and  much  of  what  is  professed  is 
a  mere  negation,  allowing  every  ism  and  schism, 
thick  as  the  frogs  of  Egypt,  to  creep  into  the 
very  bread-troughs  of  our  divinity. 

"Vice  and  crime  of  every  hue  and  kind  are  mul- 
tiplying, poor-houses-are  crowded,  jails  are  filled, 
murder  is  let  loose,  robbery  prowls  abroad,  safety 
is  fleeing,  justice  is  bribed,  and  judgment  per- 
verted ;  yet  the  watchmen  but  faintly  sound  the 
trumpet,  and  the  soldiers  do  not  rally.  I  do  not 
say  that  our  country,  or  even  New  England,  was 
ever  free  from  this  state  of  things  ;  but  I  do  say 
that  since  scepticism  has  prevailed,  and  the  rigid 
doctrines  of  the  Puritans  have  been  ridiculed,  vice 
has  become  awfully  alarming.  Formalism  has 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  313 

prevailed.  Now  fettered  religion  rises  to  assert 
its  rights;  but,  like  uneducated  freedom  in  the 
hands  of  unskilful  men,  it  has  run  mad.  Having 
religious  natures  that  must  be  gratified,  and  fail- 
ing to  be  fed  from  the  proper  source,  like  unfledged 
birds,  hungering  and  gaping,  they  have  blindly 
swallowed  everything  that  came  along. 

"  Soldiers  !  Don't  you  remember  the  drum-call 
made  at  this  building  ?  How  the  flag  waved  at 
the  gate  —  how  the  drum-tattoo  beat  in  the  street 
—  and  how  the  crowds  gathered  round  to  put  their 
names  to  the  roll-call?  How  the  welkin  rang 
again,  with  the  shouts  and  cheers  of  friends,  when 
the  regiments  departed? 

"  There  is  now  a  call  to  arms  :  a  call  for  watch- 
men upon  the  walls  of  Zion  ;  for  bold,  courageous, 
enterprising  men  —  men  like  our  fathers,  hardy, 
intrepid,  and  self-denying  —  men  that  can  stand 
all  weather,  all  storm,  all  opposition,  all  trials  and 
persecutions  —  men  that  can  bear  the  burden, 
wield  the  sword,  mount  the  ladder,  scale  the  wall, 
and  endure  hardness  as  a  good  soldier  —  men  that 
can  perform  forced  marches  in  double-quick  time, 
spend  sleepless  nights,  march  all  night,  and  fight 
all  day  —  men  that  consider  no  battle  finished  until 
the  foe  is  routed,  and  no  campaign  ended  so  long 
as  the  enemy  remains  in  the  field  —  men  who 
always  have  the  armor  on,  who  are  ever  ready  to 


314  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

stand,  to  marchj  to  charge,  and  to  strike  —  men 
who  are  not  afraid  of  a  little  brush  of  battle,  a 
little  fatigue,  a  little  hunger,  a  little  cold,  and  a 
little  loss  of  blood  —  men  who  can  remain  a  long 
time  on  duty,  can  march  at  any  moment,  strike 
when  needed,  charge  when  commanded,  stand 
when  called  to  shield  their  fellows,  and  die  when 
the  sacrifice  is  required.  Oh,  give  us  such  men  ! 
—  men  that  are  as  faithful  in  the  Christian  war- 
'fare  as  in  the  field  of  battle  -«-  men  that  are  as 
brave  as  Ccesar,  as  combative  as  John  Kiiox,  as 
bold  as  Luther,  and  as  full  of  faith  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  as  a  dying  Stephen.  Give  us  such  men  — 
men  of  sanctified  hearts,  invulnerable  faith,  and 
indomitable  will  —  men  who,  at  all  hazards,  will 
stand  by  us  when  God  calls  them,  and  pmy  for  us, 
and  uphold  our  hands.  Give  us  such  men  to  fight 
the  battles  of  the  Lord,  and  old  crusty  Formal- 
ism will  rise  and  open  his  eyes,  and  shake  himself 
and  march  for  the  battle ;  the  children  of  sloth 
will  catch  the  spirit  of  action,  and  it  will  be  more 
difficult  for  them  to  remain  idle,  or  stem  the  cur- 
rent, than  it  is  now  to  start.  Give  us  such  men, 
and  the  powers  of  darkness  would  soon  be  routed. 
"Of  thirty  thousand,  Gideon  had  but  three 
hundred.  We  may  be  thankful  if  we  have  the 
same  number ;  but  three  hundred  can  do  the  work 
when  God  calls ;  yea,  one  can  chase  a  thousand, 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  315 

and  two  put  ten  thousand  to  flight.  Then  sound 
the  trumpet !  shout  for  victory !  and  with  the 
blazing  torches  of  God's  eternal  truth  ye  shall 
awake  the  slothful,  alarm  the  guilty,  terrify  the 
ungodly,  and,  burning  the  mazes  of  sophistry,  ye 
shall  light  Scepticism  to  its  grave. 

"  We  are  to  fight  the  good  fight  of  faith.  As  I 
gaze  up  and  down  this  world  lying  in  wickedness, 
I  find  it  full  of  disloyal  subjects,  armed  against 
their  lawful  King.  I  see  forts,  castles,  and 
barricades,  built  thick  through  all  the  earth,  and 
filled  with  legions  of  the  King's  enemies.  Besides 
the  garrison,  there  are  many  outposts,  scouting 
parties,  pioneers,  and  an  immense  field  army, 
ready  at  a  moment's  warning  to  march  to  any 
assailed  point.  Time  would  fail  me  to  describe 
them.  The  whole  forces  are  commanded  by  the 
prince  of  the  power  of  the  air,  who  is  called  Satan, 
the  adversaiy.  Among  the  castles,  Intemperance, 
Sensuality,  Sorcery,  Idolatry,  Covetousness,  Mal- 
ice, Murder  and  Revenge,  are  prominent,  defended 
by  an  army  of  doubters,  under  various  officers, 
from  Major-General  Atheist,  Brigadier-General 
Deist,  Colonel  Free-Thinker,  Captain  Christless, 
down  to  Corporal  Unregenerate .  From  this  fortress 
recruits  are  furnished  for  all  divisions  of  the  army, 
and  none  are  fit  for  command  until  they  have 
served  here  as  cadets.  They  cannot  be  courageous 


316  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

in  crimo  until  the  fear  of  God  is  banished  from 
their  minds. 

"Could  a  messenger  from  some  far-off  pltlnet 
visit  our  nation,  and,  marching  with  the  course  of 
the  sun  on  a  Sabbath  morning,  hear  the  chime  of 
bells  from  Maine  to  Oregon,  circling  one  quarter 
of  the  globe,  with  one  continuous  sound  —  could 
he  see  these  tall  spires  perforating  the  heavens 
thick  throughout  the  continent,  towering  from  the 
most  splendid  edifices  of  the  nation,  and  that  these 
temples  are  open  one-seventh  of  the  time  to  the 
public  crowds  of  beauty  and  fashion,  besides  the 
multitude  of  prayer-meetings  and  lectures  during 
the  week  —  could  he  witness  the  millions  of  gilded 
Bibles  adorning  every  library,  every  parlor,  and 
every  centre  table  —  could  he  find  in  these  Bibles 
the  same  internal  evidence  extending  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  for  more  than  four  thousand  years, 
the  same  attributes  of  God,  His  mercy,  His  judg- 
ments, and  His  goodness,  all  unchanged  with  the 
change  of  ages  —  could  he  see  that  Bible  attested 
by?  the  most  astonishing  miracles,  miracles  wit- 
nessed by  both  friends  and  foes,  witnessed  upon 
rivers,  seas,  mountains,  deserts,  and  upon  man, 
both  in  putting  to  death  and  bringing  to  life  — 
could  he  see  in  that  Bible  one  distinguished  per- 
sonage, spoken  of  a  hundred  times  in  the  old 
Scriptures,  bearing  alike  the  same  character  in  all 


IJFE-STRUGGLES.  317 

ages,  coming  to  earth  in  the  latter  days,  and  the 
circumstances  of  His  coming  plainly  indicated  for 
hundreds  and  even  thousands  of -years  before  the 
time  ;  and  that  this  Person  should  be  the  Son  of 
God,  and  that  He  did  come  to  earth  and  became  a 
man  of  sorrow,  acquainted  with  grief,  suffered  and 
died,  yet  rose  again  ;  and  to  attest  His  divinity  the 
rocks  were  rent,  the  graves  were  opened,  the  sun 
was  darkened,  and  Himself  could  not  be  holden  in 
the  grave,  but  rose  on  the  third  day;  that  He 
died,  the  just  for  the  unjust ;  was  made  sin  for  us 
who  knew  no  sin,  and  that,  by  simple  faith,  only 
by  believing,  the  greatest  sinner  may  be  saved, 
mid  all  the  world  and  every  creature  be  converted 
to  God,  and  sin  and  iniqritybe  banished  from  the 
earth  ;  and  that  His  Spirit  is  promised  to  all  that 
preach  in  His  name  ;  a  Spirit  mighty  to  the  pulling 
down  of  strongholds,  quick  and  powerful ;  and  the 
Word,  when  preached,  is  sharper  than  a  two-edged 
sword,  and  by  that  Word  scores  and  hundreds 
have  been  pricked  to  the  heart,  and  converted, 
under  one  sermon ;  that  even  three  thousand  have 
been  converted  in  a  day ;  and  that  the  same  Spirit 
is  now  promised,  and  is  able  to  perform  the  same 
mighty  deeds  through  faith  —  could  a  messenger 
from  another  world  become  acquainted  with  such  a 
gospel  as  ours,  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost,  able 
to  regenerate  the  whole  world  —  and  then  could 


318  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

he  see  how  little  are  its  effects  among  us,  how 
indifferently  preached,  how  miserably  practised, 
how  slow  to  overcome  the  world,  what  Avould  be 
his  astonishment  ?  What  would  be  his  indignation 
to  see  so  priceless  a  gospel  in  so  pitiful  hands,  — 
to  see  so  powerful  an  army  backed  up  by  the 
Almighty,  yet  overmatched  by  the  Evil  One  ! 

"  As  military  tactics  in  the  physical  world  have 
greatly  changed  since  the  apostolic  time,  so  also 
have  the  modes  of  our  spiritual  warfare.  Once 
kings  and  commanders  fought  in  the  front  ranks, 
and  shared  a  common  soldier's  fare  ;  but  now  our 
officers  are  too  delicate  for  such  regimen.  Once 
men  could  fight  every  day  for  a  week,  but  now 
only  two  hours  out  of  seven  times  twenty-four. 
Once  commanders  stood  by  the  ranks,  and  were 
familiar  with  all.  They  could  say, '  My  sheep  hear 
my  voice,  and  I  know  them.'  But^now  it  is  glo- 
riously popular  to  be  ignorant  of  every  man's  con- 
dition. Once  it  was  necessary  for  every  citizen 
to  be  a  soldier ;  now  we  can  hire  mercenaries  to 
do  the  fighting,  and  by  paying  well  we  can  sleep 
in  the  pew,  while  they  do  a  little  flourishing  in 
the  pulpit.  Once  officers  anjd  soldiers  were  on  a 
common  level ;  but  now  officers  are  compelled  to 
be  reserved,  lest  they  lose  their  dignity.  Once  it 
was  an  honor  for  them  to  live  and  die  poor ;  but 
now  they  are  nothing  without  a  golden  reputation. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  319 

Once  it  was  forbidden  to  put  on  gold  or  costly 
apparel ;  but  now  it  is  a  sin  to  be  without  them. 
Once  steel  was  thought  better  than  gold,  because 
more  substantial,  and  sack-cloth  better  than  silk, 
because  more  enduring,  and  better  for  kneeling ; 
but  now,  for  fencing  instead  of  fighting,  gold  glit- 
ters the  best ;  and  as  to  kneeling,  that  is  an  old- 
fashioned  mode  of  repelling  a  foe,  and  work  too 
low  for  modern  warfare.  Once  armor  —  strong 
and  heavy  armor  —  was  required ;  but  now,  as 
we  can  get  behind  breastworks  and  shoot  at  a 
distance,  armor  is  not  needed.  Once  we  met  the 
enemy  face  to  face  and  eye  to  eye ;  but  now  we 
can  retreat  behind  the  pulpit,  and  send  rockets 
down  into  the  dens  of  iniquity.  Once  we  fought 
with  short  swords,  and  the  shorter  the  sword  the 
nearer  we  approached  the  enemy ;  but  now  we 
can  fire  paper  bullets.  Once  it  was  necessary  to 
have  a  shield  called  '  Faith ' ;  but  now,  as  a  shield 
may  sometimes  confound  the  sight,  it  is  thought 
best  to  trust  the  sight  rather  than  the  shield. 
Once  a  helmet  was  needed  called  '  Salvation,'  as 
the  head  was  most  exposed,  and  wounds  in  the 
head  affect  the  heart ;  but  now  the  head  is  thought 
capable  of  defending  itself,  and  the  helmet  is 
thrown  aside  for  the  free-thinking  cranium.  Once 
a  sword  was  of  great  service,  called  the  '  Sword 
of  the  Spirit ' ;  but  now  a  silver  cane  will  answer. 


320  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

Once  the  Word  of  God  was  used  as  a  sharp  sword, 
with  two  edges  piercing  to  the  quick ;  but  now  a 
sheath  is  made  for  it,  called  '  Politeness,'  and,  to 
prevent  its  penetrating,  a  ball  is  fastened  upon 
the  point  called  '  Tender  Compassion.'  Oh,  the 
times  !  the  times  ! 

"  Land  of  the  Pilgrims  !  Shades  of  the  Puri- 
tans !  Where  the  age  that  produced  men, —  strong, 
bold,  fearless,  honest  men?  Where  those  men 
that  were  born  heroes  —  that  drank  courage  from 
their  mountain-springs  —  that  fed  on  valor  from 
the  forest  game  ?  Where  those  men  nurtured  in  the 
Wilds,  who  were  as  brave  as  Bravery's  own  self? 
Where  those  revolutionary  heroes,  who  could  be 
tracked  by  the  blood  of  their  feet  to  the  field  of 
battle  ?  Where  that  Puritanic  independence  and 
self-denial  that  could  leave  home  in  a  civilized 
land  for  free  worship  in  the  wilderness  ?  Where 
now  the  Brainards,  the  Mathers,  the  Williamses, 
the  Eliots?  Where  those  men  of  the  iron  age, 
that  meant  what  they  said,  said  what  they  meant, 
and  said  it  as  if  they  meant  it  ?  Whose  every 
word  was  a  nail  fastened  in  a  sure  place,  and 
whose  every  stroke  of  the  hammer  brought  a 
clincher?  O  ye  Pharisees,  hypocrites  !  Ye  may 
build  the  tombs  of  the  fathers,  and  garnish  the 
sepulchres  of  the  righteous,  but  ye  touch  not  the 
burdens  of  those  men  with  one  of  your  fingers. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  321 

Yc  may  erect  a  monument  at  Plymouth,  and  make 
it  vie  with  that  at  Bunker  Hill ;  but  ye  are  as  far 
from*  the  faith  and  vital  piety  of  those  men,  as  a 
Sadducee  is  from  a  saint.  Venerable  Fathers,  rise 
and  rebuke  the  builders  of  your  sepulchres  !  Stop 
Scepticism  from  burning  incense  ever  your  tombs  ! 
Let  your  ashes  be  scattered  upon  the  sea,  rather 
than  have  them  usurped  by  unbelievers.  Your 
monument  already  stands  in  the  hearts  of  the  faith- 
ful, and  there  forever  let  it  stand,  rather  than  in 
the  cold  stone  of  builders  whose  faith  is  as  cold  as 
the  stone.  Awake!  O  arm  of  the  Lord  !  Let  God 
arise,  and  let  His  enemies  be  scattered.  Awake, 
O  Zion  !  put  on  thine  armor,  O  Jerusalem  !  As 
wax  melteth  before  the  fire,  so  shall  the  wicked 
perish  at  the  presence  of  God.  Awake,  O  New 
England  !  there  is  a  change  coming  over  the  spirit 
of  thy  warfare.  Awake  and  sing,  thou  that  dwell- 
est  in  the  dust ;  for  thy  dead  shall  arise,  and  tho 
ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  return  with  songs  and 
everlasting  joy  upon  their  heads." 

21 


322  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

Relinquishing  of  Night-school  and  Franklin  Building.  —  The 
City's  Plan.  —  Hired  Teachers.  —  Increased  Expense.  — 
Failure.  —  Elected  Chaplain  of  the  Senate.  —  Complimentary 
Resolve.  —  Assisted  J)y  Governor  Claflin.  —  Purchase  of 
Indiana  Place  Chapel.  —  Liberal  Offer  to  have  it  c;i!l<>d 
"Morgan  Chapel."  —  Benefit  by  Jordan,  Marsh  <fc  Co., 
in  Music  Hall.—  "Fast  Young  Men"  delivered  200  times. 


more  my  situation  in  Boston  was  crit- 
ical. The  City  of  Boston,  seeing  the  work 
I  had  done  among  the  news-boys  and 
boot-blacks,  was  about  to  take  the  com- 
plete charge  of  the  night-schools,  and  conduct 
them,  with  hired  teachers,  at  the  cost  of  $20,000 
for  a  few  mouths'  services,  teaching  less  than 
one-half  the  pupils  before  taught  by  the  volunteer 
system,  and  not  reaching  the  needy  outcasts. 

Establishing  high-schools  with  Geology,  Botany, 
Fancy  Drawing,  and  Star-gazing,  would  not  elevate 
the  dangerous  classes  who  could  neither  read  nor 
write.  I  knew  it  would  be  a  perfect  failure  ; 
that  hired  teachers  would  have  no  heart  to  arouse 
boys  of  this  class,  especially  teachers  who  had 
been  jaded  out  in  the  day-school.  It  required 
great  heart,  warm  sympathies,  entering  into  their 
distressed  state,  and  great  will,  ancl  physical  force, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  323 

to  inspire  them  with  ambition.  But  the  city  had 
so  ordered,  —  they  required  the  building ;  I  had 
to  leave. 

What  was  to  be  done?  Some  of  my  friends 
said  I  must  have  a  church,  so  they  interested 
themselves  to  have  me  chosen  Chaplain  of  the 
Senate,  the  better  to  place  me  before  the  public, 
and  give  me  permanency  in  Boston.  Here  I 
became  acquainted  with  Governor  Clafliu,  who 
was  then  a  member  of  the  Council. 

When  the  Legislature  was  about  to  be  pro- 
rogued, I  received  the  following  votd  of  thanks ; 
also  several  donations  from  the  members  : 

"COMMONWEALTH  OF  MASSACHUSETTS. — Re- 
solved,  That  the  members  of  the  Senate  of  the  year 
1868  are  desirous  of  recording  their  appreciation 
of  the  services  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Morgan,  their 
zealous  and  efficient  Chaplain  ; 

"  Resolved,  That  our  thanks  are  hereby  kindly 
imd  respectfully  offered  to  the  Chaplain,  for  the 
very  satisfactory  manner  in  which  he  has  conducted 
the  exercises  of  his  office,  and  that  our  best 
wishes  will  go  with  him  for  the  future,  in  the  full 
confidence  that  his  life  will  still  be  devoted  to 
the  best  interests  of  the  poor,  the  lowly,  the 
weak  and  the  oppressed. 

"Senate,  June  9,  1868.     Passed  unanimously. 
«S.  N.  GIFFORD,  Clerk» 


324  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

Governor  Claflin  became  a  generous  contributor 
to  our  Mission,  and  on  the  last  day  of  the  session 
he  said  to  me,  "Mr.  Morgan,  you  must  not 
leave  Boston.  You  and  your  Society  have  done 
a  good  work ;  you  must  have  a  home." 

He  told  me  that  Rev.  James  Freeman  Clarke's 
church,  on  Indiana  Place,  was  to  be  sold,  next  day, 
at  auction ;  I  might  bid  $22,000  for  it,  and  he  would 
back  me.  If,  at  last,  I  could  not  carry  the  debt, 
he  would  take  the  building  off  my  hands. 

There  was  one  wealthy  man  present,  Mr. 
Donahoe,  Editor  of  the  Pilot,  who  I  knew  would 
not  bid  against  me.  He  had  been  a  contributor 
to  my  Mission.  He  knew  I  was  not  sectarian, 
nor  striving  to  make  proselytes.  Catholics  were 
not  afraid  to  attend  my  meetings,  or  send  their 
children  to  the  night-school.  In  fact,  some  .of 
the  brightest  graduates  were  of  the  Catholic  Church. 
One,  Mr.  George  Fox,  a  promising  lawyer  of 
Boston,  is  proud  to  acknowledge  the  aid  of  the 
night-school  in  helping  him  to  fame. 

The  bidding  was  spirited  up  to  $20,000 ;  then 
I  held  back,  and  let  others  bid.  The  auctioneer 
wondered  why  I  did  not  bid  further.  He  cried, 
"Going,  going!"  then  looked  at  me,  then  eyed 
the  Trustees,  to  get  a  cue.  I  knew  that  some  of 
the  bids  were  fictitious,  and  others  were  from 
irresponsible  men.  They  winked  as  much  as  that 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  325 

to  the  auctioneer.  Why  I  did  not  bid,  with  the 
Governor  to  aid  me,  was  the  question.  I  stated, 
if  I  could  choose  my  terms  of  payment  I  would 
give  $20,400.  It  was  immediately  struck  down 
to  me.  Governor  Claflin's  shadow  at  that  auction 
was  worth  more  than  $2,000  to  me.  After 
purchasing  the  chapel,  friends  came  in  numbers 
to  congratulate  me.  One  gentleman  offered  me 
$50,  and  a  marble  slab,  provided  he  could  have 
inscribed  upon  it  "Morgan  Chapel"  The  offer 
was  accepted  by  the  unanimous  vote  of  the 
Society. 

But  how  to  pay  for  the  church,  how  to  lift  the 
mortgage,  was  the  question.  Charles  Fechter, 
the  actor,  had  just  received  a  benefit  of  $4,000  at 
the  Boston  Theatre ;  this  he  gave  in  charity, 
appointing  Jordan,  Marsh  &  Co.  sole  distributors. 
They  gave  me  a  part  of  it  for  my  Mission ;  then 
tendered  me  a  benefit,  as  they  had  done  to  Mr. 
Fechter.  The  invitation  was  headed  by  Jordan, 
Marsh  &  Co.,  C.  F.  Hovey  &  Co.,  Chandler  &  Co., 
and  twenty-five  other  merchants.  Some  of  the 
clerks  took  umbrage  at  the  word  "benefit,"  as  if  a 
lecture  on  "  Fast  Young  Men "  was  needed  for 
their  benefit  rather  than  their  entertainment. 

The  Journal  said  :  "  The  firm  that  originated  tho 
call  were  acquainted  with  the  lecture,  and  thought 
it  a  pleasing  entertainment  for  their  clerks.  They 


326  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

invited  other  firms  to  share  in  the  object,  which 
was  simply  a  testimonial  to  Mr.  Morgan." 

The  Traveller  remarked  :  "  The  dry-goods  clerks 
of  Boston  do  not  wish  to  be  classed  as  '  Fast  Young 
Men,'  but  this  may  not  deter  them  from  attending 
the  lecture." 

The  Advertiser  added  :  "  No  little  stir  has  been 
created  amongst  the  clerks  in  this  city  by  the  spe- 
cial invitation  to  deliver  a  lecture  on  '  Fast  Young 
Men '  for  their  benefit,  which  they  regard  as  an 
imputation." 

The  Herald  thought :  "  One  of  the  most  amus- 
ing things  we  know  of  is  the  indignation  of  nu- 
merous clerks  in  Boston  because  Rev.  Henry  Mor- 
gan was  invited  to  repeat  his  lecture  on  'Fast 
Young  Men.'  But  the  clerks,  instead  of  recogniz- 
ing in  the  great  moral  entertainment  something 
for  their  benefit,  instantly  became  indignant. 
Some  of  them  pathetically  pointed  out  that  their 
salaries  were  too  small  to  allow  them  to  be  fast ; 
'though  they  want  to  be,  very  much.'  But  we  fail  to 
see  why  the  clerks  should  be  indignant.  Let  them 
get  up  an  invitation  to  Rev.  Mr.  Morgan  to  deliver 
a  lecture  on  '  Tough  Old  Sinners ' ;  he  could  treat 
one  subject  just  as  well  as  the  other.  It  might 
have  a  good  effect.  This  would  be  a  retort  in  kind 
Mr.  Morgan  would  approve  of." 

The  Traveller  repeated  :  "  Mr.  Morgan's  lecture 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  327 

will  give  an  opportunity  for  fast  young  men,  fast 
old  men,  young  men  who  want  to  be  fast  and  can't, 
as  they  say,  on  account  of  salary,  and  tough  old 
sinners,  to  hear  and  judge  for  themselves." 

The  Advertiser  added :  "  The  firms  were  the 
ones  that  lifted  Mr.  Gilmore  to  his  Jubilee  fame  ; 
they  were  the  dispensers  of  Mr.  Fechter's  charities  ; 
and  now,  as  Mr.  Morgan's  chapel  was  in  need  of 
funds,  they  determined  to  bring  him  before  a  new 
class  of  hearers.  But,  why  does  Mr.  Morgan  select 
the  lecture  on '  Fast  Young  Men '  ?  Because  the 
titles  of  the  other  lectures  are  equally  objection- 
able. 'Young  Men  And  Early  Marriage,'  —  that 
is,  for  young  men  to  marry  early, — might  not 
always  be  advisable,  especially  on  '  three  dollars  a 
week.'  And  '  Workers  and  Shirkers '  might  be  con- 
strued into  heavy  work  for  the  able-bodied.  A 
tirade  against '  Fashion '  might  militate  against  the 
interests  of  the  employer.  '  Speckled  Bird '  might 
suggest  something  spotted.  '  Humbug '  might  be 
inferred  as  a  fact.  Therefore  '  Fast  Young  Men ' 
was  selected  as  an  agreeable  entertainment. 

"  The  hour  for  the  appointed  lecture  arrived ; 
clerks  and  employers,  members  of  the  Legislature, 
fast  young  men,  and  young  men  that  would  be 
fast  if  they  could,  were  all  on  hand.  Every 
grade  was  represented :  the  lively  cash-boy,  the 
dapper  salesman,  the  sedate  head-clerk,  were 


328  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

among  the  auditors.  The  house  was  filled  to  over- 
flowing. He  said,  'In  accepting  the  request  to  lec- 
ture to  clerks,  neither  I  nor  the  originators  of 
the  testimonial  had  the  least  idea  of  casting  any 
reflection,  but,  on  the  contrary,  consider  them  as 
a  class  the  most  exemplary.'"  (Cheers.) 

The  Boston  Post  said :  "  He  presented  two 
classes  of  fast  young  men,  — those  who  reformed, 
and  those  who  resisted  every  effort  for  their  refor- 
mation. While  paying  tribute  to  their  genius, 
he  deplored  the  weaknesses  of  such  men  as  Burns, 
Coleridge,  Douglas  Jerrold,  Lord  Byron,  De 
Quincey,  and  Richard  Steele. 

"  He  depicted  Edgar  A.  Poe  appearing  before  a 
Boston  audience  in.a  state  of  intoxication,  endeav- 
oring to  recite  his '  Raven,'  in  a  manner  which  elic- 
ited for  the  speaker  a  burst  of  applause.  He  said 
fast  young  men  were  not  beyond  the  pale  of  salva- 
tion, and  instanced  the  names  of  many  who  had 
been  reclaimed,  and  made  an  appeal  for  the  recla- 
mation of  the  fallen. 

"He  continued,  'God  scatters  His  veins  of  gold  in 
hidden  mountains  ;  He  sprinkles  His  gems  of  pearl 
on  the  unfathomed  floor  of  ocean  ;  the  philanthro- 
pic pearl-diver,  searching  for  spangles  beneath  the 
gulf-stream  of  human  pollution,  brings  to  the  sur- 
face gems  fit  to  deck  the  brow  of  Science,  or  Art, 
or  Eloquence,  and  glitter  in  the  starry  crown  of  a 
glorious  immortality. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  329 

w'On  this  tide-wave  of  dissipation  there  are 
beacon-lights  of  hope  to  illumine  the  moral  dark- 
ness. Here  are  Nature's  noblest  heroes.  Here, 
to  be  a  saint,  costs  sacrifice  and  effort. 

' '  It  is  easy  to  be  morally  good  when  all  your 
surroundings  encourage  it ;  but  to  stem  the  tide 
requires  courage.  Now  I  will  show  you  a  hero, 
—  a  man  crushed  by  sin,  forsaken  of  friends, 
denounced,  despised,  wrecked  of  every  moral 
sense,  conscious  of  lost  opportunities,  misdirected 
aims,  and  wasted  life,  yet  striving  to  reform ;  for 
him  to  rise  and  shake  off  the  pestiferous  load  of 
evil  associates,  put  his  heel  on  the  neck  of  the 
giant  Appetite,  like  David  on  Goliath,  to  conquer 
the  demon  Lust ;  for  him  to  assert  his  manhood, 
meet  temptation,  look  the  tempter  blind;  to  say 
to  Intemperance,  "Thou  shalt  no  more  have  domin- 
ion over  me  ;  no  more  shalt  thou  palsy  this  arm." 
Look  at  it !  It  holds  itself  as  straight  and  firm 
as  a  Cranmer's  in  the  martyr's  flame.  Not  an  inch 
does  it  budge,  or  quiver,  or  move.  See  !  not  a 
pulse  falters  !  No  paralysis  shakes  a  single  nerve. 
That  arm !  It  is  free, — free  as  the  heavens  that 
made  it !  It  is  forever  free  from  the  curse,  the 
enom,  the  scathing,  withering  blight  of  Intemper- 
' ance ! 

" '  For  him  to  rise  in  all  the  majesty  and  might 
of  his  new  resolve,  and  his  new-born  manhood, 


330  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

stand  firm  as  adamant,  and  assimilate  himself  to 
the  image  of  his  God, —  that  man  is  one  of  the 
elect,  one' of  the  redeemed,  one  of  the  kings  and 
priests  unto  God  !  One  of  whom  God  says,  "Him 
that  overcometh  will  I  make  a  pillar  in  the  Tem- 
ple of  my  God,  and  he  shall  go  no  more  out  for- 
ever." ' 

"  The  lecture  lasted  an  hour  and  a  half,  eliciting 
alternate  tears,  laughter,  and  applause." 

I  returned  my  warmest  thanks  to  the  originators 
of  the  testimonial.  Next  morning,  "I  awoke  to  find 
myself  famous."  The  calls  to  repeat  the  lecture 
were  numerous,  soon  numbering  over  a  hundred. 
The  aid  extended  me  by  Jordan,  Marsh  and  Co., 
on  that  occasion,  netted  to  me,  eventually,  more 
than  $10,000.  Up  to  the  present  time  "Fast 
Young  Men  "  has  been  delivered  over  200  times 
in  New  England,  besides  in  various  other  States. 
When  delivered  for  the  thirty-second  time  in  Bos- 
ton, over  3,500  persons  paid  for  admission  at  the 
doors  of  Music  Hall ;  then  the  police  were  called 
to  close  the  doors  against  the  surging  crowd,  and 
hundreds  were  turned  away. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  331 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

Painful  Telegram.  —  "Mother  Dying." — My  hurried  Depar- 
ture. —  Arrived  too  Late.  —  Her  last  Hours.  —  Calls  for 
"Henry." — Desire  to  wave  "Shadowy  Hand  "  in  Parting 
Blessing.  —  Grove  Meeting.  —  Great  Crowd.  —  Inspiration 
over  my  Mother's  Grave. — Appeal  to  Young  Men. — "  Where 
the  Friends  of  my  Youth  ?  "  —  Return  to  Pastorate  in  Boston. 
—  Discourse  on  the  Death  of  my  Mother. 

jjBOUT  this  time  I  received  from  my  brother 
the  following  telegram,  dated  Newtown, 
Conn.,  Jan.  14,  1869:  w Mother  is  dying ; 
come  home  immediately."  I  left  all,  took 
the  earliest  train,  travelled  all  night,  made  stren- 
uous exertions  to  see  her  alive,  but  arrived  too 
late. 

On  that  evening  she  had,  as  usual,  attended 
to  the  necessary  in-door  and  out-door  duties  of 
the  house  and  farm,  the  favorite  occupation  of 
her  life.  Before  going  out  to  milk,  she  com- 
plained of  fatigue,  tottered  slowly  along,  and  did 
her  work ;  upon  her  return  she  spoke  of  feeling 
unwell,  and  said  she  would  make  some  bark-tea 
to  relieve  her  distress.  She  took  some  stick? 
and  began  to  whittle  off  the  bark,  and  did  not 
stop  working  even  while  my  uncle  was  praying ; 


332  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

neither  did  she  kneel  down.  The  friends  were 
astonished.  Her  lips  were  moving  as  if  she  was 
conversing  with  the  spirit-world.  They  were 
a,1  armed ;  they  asked  her  if  she  was  not  weary. 
She  said,  "Oh,  lam  so  tired!"  Still  she  kept 
whittling,  as  if  to  fight  away  disease.  Her  energy 
of  character  and  indomitable  will  were  apparent 
to  the  very  last  moment. 

She  strove  to  conceal  much  of  her  suffering, 
to  parry  off  every  fatigue,  and  every  assault. 
The  hand  that  took  the  knife  from  the  shelf, 
her  own  right  hand,  — the  hand  that  lifted  her  from 
poverty  and  want  to  comparative  affluence,  — 
the  hand  that,  under  God,  had  carried  her  through 
"  Life-Struggles,"  —  the  hand  that  had  shielded  me 
in  childhood,  guided  me  in  youth,  pointed  me 
to  Hope,  inspired  me  to  "hope  against  Hope," 
led  me  up  to  manhood,  consecrated  me  to  God 
and  Humanity,  — that  hand,  that  industrious  hand, 
is  now  fighting  its  last  battle, 

Disease  is  laying  its  grasp  upon  the  nerve ; 
the  blade,  in  her  vain  attempt  to  scrape  off  the 
bark,  disobeys  her  will ;  her  muscles  suddenly 
relax ;  the  knife  falls,  the  sticks  drop  to  the  floor ; 
she  cries,  "I  am  so  sick  !  Oh,  I  am  in  such  dis- 
tress !  Help  me ! "  and  settles  back  wearily  in 
her  chair. 

Her  last  hour  was  approaching ;  her  life's  work 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  333 

was  done.  She,  who  for  seventy-three  years  had 
toiled  early  and  late,  was  about  to  receive  her 
reward.  No  more  was  she  to  be  oppressed  with 
the  decreptitude  and  infirmities  of  age !  No 
more  to  contend  with  bitter  want,  as  in  early  life  ! 
No  more  to  be  bereft  of  husband,  home,  and 
hope  !  No  more  to  struggle  through  winter's  snow 
and  storm !  No  more  to  pass  sleepless  nights  in 
prayer  for  her  'erring  boy !  No  more  to  watch 
bin  tearful  anxiety  his  success  in  the  ministry ! 

Her  children  were  provided  for ;  her  elder 
son  had  settled  down,  become  a  member  of  the 
church,  gathered  around  him  a  happy  family. 
I  had  become  pastor  of  a  flock  of  my  own  gather- 
ing, and  in  a  building  bearing  "my  name.  Her 
prayers  had  been  answered ;  her  hopes  realized ; 
the  object  of  her  lifetime  attained ;  her  con- 
secration-vow fulfilled.  She  had  learned  of  my 
success  in  Boston,  had  read  the  complimentary 
resolve  of  the  Massachusetts  Senate,  heard  of 
the  aid  proffered  me  by  the  Governor,  and  the 
interest  the  merchants  took  in  my  welfare.  She 
was  ready  to  go.  One  regret  only  had  she,  —  that 
her  "Shadowy  Hand"  could  never  again  be  raised 
in  parting  blessing. 

Friends  bent  over  her  pale  form  ;  at  length  her 
eyes  gently  opened,  and  she  motioned  as  if  she 
would  speak.  They  listened  intently  to  catch 


334  SHADOWY  HAND;   OR, 

every  word.     She  said  :  "  Send  for  Hen^y ;  I  must 
see  him  before  I  die." 

They  replied,  "  We  will  telegraph  immediately. 
Wouldn't  you  like  to  lie  down  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  she,  "  help  me  to  my  bed. 
I  am  so  faint ! "  and  she  sank  back,  exhausted, 
upon  her  couch.  The  lamp  of  her  life  flickered 
in  its  socket;  she  softly  murmered,  "Lord  Jesus, 
be  Thou  my  staff  as  I  walk  down  the  valley  !  " 

After  reclining  awhile,  she  seemed  to  rally  ;- 
angels  were  her  watchers ;  a  smile  lit  up  her 
countenance  ;  a  halo  of  glory  rested  on  her  brow, 
as  the  pearly  gates  opened  to  her  heavenly  vision. 
Nature  was  in  harmony  with  the  scene :  the 
wiutry  storm  had  passed,  the  sky  was  clear,  there 
was  a  peaceful  calm.  A  mantle  of  pure  white 
snow  shrouded  the*  earth,  vegetation  was  dead, 
and  every  bud  and  blossom  was  buried. 

Jewels  of  icicles  hung  pendant  from  the  roof, 
tree-tops,  and  mountain  crags,  as  gems  to  a'cof- 
'  fined  world.  It  was  Sabbath  evening  ;  the  sun 
was  setting.  How  glorious  was  its  departure  ! 
How  eifulgeut  its  declining  beams  !  The  King  of 
Day  majestically  retired,  from  the  scene  of  Sab- 
bath rest,  behind  the  horizon  of  fleecy  clouds, 
gilding  the  mountain-tops,  forest-trees,  and  snowy 
peaks,  showering  its  parting  benediction  with 
emerald,  ruby,  purple  and  gold  !  Thus,  like  the 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  335 

sun,  was  my  mother  departing ;  -like  the  sun,  she 
shone  sweetly  in  retiring ;  like  the  snow  was  her 
purity  ;  her  example  was  as  the  shining  light,  and 
her  shadow,  as  the  decline  of  day,  was  beautiful 
to  its  close. 

My  brother  stood  by  her  side.  "  Charles ! 
Charles  !  will  Henry  come  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,  we  expect  him  soon." 

She  smiled ;  her  lips  moved  as  if  in  prayer : 
"Tell  him,  tell  him,  mother -- mother  —  "  But 
she  could  not  finish  the  sentence  ;  her  voice  'fal- 
tered,—  her  tongue  was  paralyzed.  She  slowly 
raised  that  w  Shadowy  Hand,"  waved  it  in  parting 
blessing,  and  calmly  passed  away. 

A  great  concourse  gathered  to  honor  my  mother 
in  her  burial.  I  appointed  a  Grove  Meeting,  near 
her  grave,  as  a  testimonial  to  her  many  virtues. 
Great  were  the,  crowds  assembled  ;  some  of  them 
having  journeyed  from  Bridgeport,  sixteen  miles 
away.  Never  before  had  there  been  such  a  relig- 
ious interest  in  that  vicinity.  I  took  my  stand  in 
sight  of  the  grave  ;  the  identical  spot  where,  forty 
years  before,  I  was  lost  in  the  woods,  but  found 
my  way  homeward  through  the  blinding  snow,  by 
a  light  in  the  window  placed  there  by  a  mother's 
"Shadowy  Hand."  The  following  was  my  apos- 
trophe to  that  sainted  mother : 

*'  Mother  !    Dost  thou  know  the  pain  thy  death 


336  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

hath  cost  me?  The  loss  of  health,  of  hope,  of 
spirit?  Oh,  this  sudden  stroke!  This  lightning 
thrill !  This  cruel  death  !  No  parting  word  from 
thee,  mother  !  No  sweet  fond  look  !  No  kind  kiss  ! 
No  sweet  embrace  1  No  last  farewell !  Speak, 
mother  !  I  am  listening  now,  as  over  thy  grave  I 
bend. 

"  Speak,  mother  !  Speak  from  thy  tomb  !  Speak 
from  these  fading  flowers ;  speak  from  the  weep- 
ing skies ;  smile  in  the  clouds ;  wave  thy  '  Shad- 
owy Hand ' ;  show  signs  that  thou  dost  still  love 
me ! 

"  Thy  son  has  travelled  day  and  night,  to  reach 
thee.  Alas  !  he  only  finds  thy  new-made  grave. 
Alas  !  thy  sweet  form  is  hid  from  my  view.  Here 
lies  all  that  was  mortal  of  my  mother.  Here  I 
give  my  last  offering !  Here  in  the  twilight  of 
this  solemn  evening,  on  whispering  breeze,  in 
sighs  and  tears,  I  breathe  my  prayer.  Oh,  answer 
me,  mother  !  Answer  me,  by  some  rustling  leaf, 
some  dew-drop  tear,  some  plaintive  sigh,  some 
whispering  shadow  on  the  chiselled  letters  of  this 
cold,  white  stone. 

"  Oil!  speak,  and  tell  me,  mother,  thou  art  con- 
scious of  my  grief.  Tell  me  thou  watchest  over 
me,  and  lovest  me  still.  Hark!  my  ear  is  stirred  ! 
I  hear  a  whisper  !  I  feel  an  impulse  in  my  breast ! 
My  soul  is  moved.  I  hear  a  voice.  It  is!  it  is 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  337 

the  voice  of  my  mother.  It  tells  me  I  am  not 
forgotten ;  it  assures  me  I  am  not  left  alone  to  the 
cold  sympathies  of  the  world. 

"  Speak  louder,  mcther  !  Let  thy  shadowy  form 
ever  be  over  me.  Draw  closer  round  me  thine 
angelic  wing.  Bend  over  me.  Oh,  bless  me, 
mother,  with  thy  prayer  !  Place  thy  hand  upon 
my  head  —  thy  spirit-hand  —  as  thou  didst  in  child- 
hood days,  when  I  was  sick,  and  sad,  and  wayward. 
Oh,  shield  me, —  soothe  me  from  this  death  of  grief. 

"Hark!  again  that  voice.  It  seems  to  say, 
'Look  up  !  my  son,  look  up  !  Mother  still  lives  ! 
Not  lost,  but  gone  before.  Look  up  !  Higher  my 
boy,  higher  !  Come  up  hither.  K  Never  too  poor 
to  pray."  "  Never  too  weak  to  win."  '  Oh,  blessed 
words  of  hope  !  Oh,  blessed  assurance  !  It  is 
worth  a  world  to  me.  Sensibly  now  I  feel  the 
protection  of  thy  '  Shadowy  Hand.' 

"My  whole  heart  is  thine,  solely  thine.  Alas, 
thou  hast  left  me,  mother !  I  am  lonely  now ! 
A  pressure  rests  upon  my  breast,  a  void  is  in  my 
heart, — a  void  that  no  balm  can  heal,  no  cup  can 
fill.  My  tears  fall  unnoted.  I  forget  my  friends, 
my  food,  my  sleep ;  the  world  is  a  dreary  blank. 

"  This  grave-yard  is  dear  to  me,  mother  !  Here 
thou  didst  consecrate  me,  over  my  father's  grave. 
I  cannot  recall  thy  prayer,  I  was  too  young  then, 
and  too  much  overcome  to  remember.  But  this 

22 


338  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

I  do  recall :  *  God  shield  my  fatherless  boy  I 
May  a  mother's  shadow  be  as  the  wing  of  tho 
Almighty.  "Hope  against  Hope,"  my  boy;  you 
shall  pluck  pearls  from  every  sea  of  trouble.' 

"  Oh,  what  a  change  !  The  same  trees  wave  over 
me  as  then.  The  same  high  rocks  are  here,  the 
same  bubbling  spring,  the  birds  warble  their  sweet 
notes,  now  as  then,  but  all  else,  — how  changed  ! 

"  The  poor  old  cottage  that  once  sheltered  us 
stands  tenantless  and  lone.  No  flowery  wreaths 
adorn  it  now,  no  spreading  vines,  no  strings  of 
morning-glories,  trained  by  a  fond  mother's  hand, 
to  shield  it  from  the  public  gaze.  It  stands  a  prey 
to  winter's  winds  and  storms,  with  clapboards 
rattling  in  the  doleful  breeze,  fit  type  of  my  sor- 
rowing heart ! 

"Thy  name,  dear  mother,  is  as  music  to  my 
soul.  Let  me  sound  it  as  an  old  familiar  tune. 
It  awakens  pleasant  memories  of  comfort  and 
hope.  Mother,  I  come  1  Adieu,  sweet  mother ! 
Fare  thee  well !  Thy  son  will  meet  thee  where 
partings  are  no  more." 

As  I  gazed  upon  the  congregation,  visions  of 
childhood  and  youth  rose  before  me :  my  conse- 
cration in  the  old  school-house,  the  sad  fate  of  my 
companions,  the  need  of  reformation  in  the  town, 
my  mother's  example  and  prayers,  her  efforts  to  stay 
the  tide  of  wickedness,  —  all  these  things  inspired 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  339 

me  with  superhuman  power  to  preach  the  ever- 
lasting Word.  I  was  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of 
responsibility  to  my  fellow-men.  A  holy  unction 
was  upon  mo  ;  my  mother's  image  was  before  me. 
Her  sacred  shadow  stood  like  an  Angel  of  Warn- 
ing at  my  side.  It  was  inspiring  my  tongue,  speak- 
ing in  my  speech,  breathing  in  my  breath. 

I  saw  men  on  the  slippery  brink.  I  felt  com- 
missioned to  warn  them.  Oh,  for  a  warning  voice  I 
Oh,  for  a  convicting  power  !  Oh,  for  a  blessing 
on  my  native  town !  With  an  energy  I  cannot 
here  explain,  I  cried  :  "Turn  !  turn,  young  men  ! 
Why  will  ye  die  ?  Behold,  young  man,  thy  danger  ! 
Thou  art  sporting  amid  the  Rapids,  like  Richard 
Leedom  over  Niagara.  Thou  art  hurried  on  by 
every  tide  of  passion,  and  allured  by  the  charms 
of  sin.  The  voices  of  the  syrens  entice  thee 
onward  ;  the  gratifications  of  the  appetite,  the  lusts 
of  the  flesh,  the  excitements  of  gaming,  are  a 
mighty  tide  to  hurry  thee  on,  on  !  swift  as  thought, 
swift  as  time,  and  swift  as  the  Rapids  of  Niagara. 
In  thine  enchantment  thou  art  asleep  to  danger. 
Dashing  by  the  beacon-lights  of  God's  truth,  by 
the  headlands  of  early  home,  thine  eyes  see  not 
the  distant  shore  hurrying  by,  thine  ears  hear  not 
the  sound  of  distant  breakers,  and  thy  bosom  feels 
not  the  heaving  of  the  tide.  Young  man  ahoy  ! 
The  Rapids  of  Dissipation  are  before  thee.  Young 


340  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

man  ahoy  !  Thou  art  already  in  the  vortex.  Sin's 
billows  even  now  overwhelm  thee  !  Turn,  turn,  oh 
young  man  !  Why  wilt  thou  die?  Oh,  turn  and 
stem  the  stream.  Young  man  ahoy  !  the  roar  of  ten 
thousand  Niagaras  rings  in  thine  ears.  Oh,  turn 
thy  wandering  bark  !  Seize  the  helm  of  thy  des- 
tiny !  Lay  hold  of  the  oar  of  Reform  !  Brace  thy 
feet  on  the  Eock  of  Ages  !  and  by  the  power  of 
prayer,  pull  for  thy  life  ;  by  all  the  powers  of  earth, 
by  all  the  strength  within  thee,  by  the  warnings  of 
your  lost  companions,  by  the  voice  from  the  grave, 
by  the  shadows  of  the  departed,  by  the  hope  of 
mercy,  the  fear  of  judgment,  by  time  and  eternity, 
pull,  pull !  LIFE,  LIFE  is  in  the  struggle.  B}r  the 
Spirit's  intercession,  by  the  sound  of  'a  going'  in 
the  top  of  these  trees,  by  the  arrow  of  conviction  that 
pierces  thine  heart,  by  thy  lost  opportunities,  by 
the  eternity  that  is  in  the  little  word  '  Now,'  by 
the  roar  of  the  cataract  of  guilt,  by  the  eternal 
plunge  that  is  before  thee,  plant  thy  feet,  pull  on 
the  oar  of  prayer  !  ARMS,  do  your  best!  SINEWS, 
test  your  strength!  OAR,  row  back  the  engulphing 
tide!  Alas  !  alas  !  Mortal  efforts  are  all  in  vain. 
Thou  art  gone  too  far.  Thou  art  gone  too  deep 
in  the  abyss  of  sin.  Alas  I  no  hand  can  save,  — 
none  but  Jesus. 

"There  is  a  bridge  stretching  over  thy  course — 
a  highway  of  holiness  cast  up  for  the 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  341 

of  the  Lord  —  and  on  it  stands  the  Saviour,  who 
throws  down  to  thee  the  cable  of  Promise,  with 
the  anchor  of  Hope.  He  cries,  '  Lay  hold  of  the 
hope  set  before  thee  P  Upon  the  bridge,  and  over 
the  river,  stand  father,  mother,  sister,  brother, 
watching  with  intense  anxiety.  '  Lay  hold  of  the 
promises  of  God,'  they  cry.  The  Spirit  and  the 
Bride  say,  'Lay  hold.'  The  angels  cry,  'Lay  hold.' 
The  promises  of  God  are,  'Believe  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  and  thou  shalt  be  saved ' ! " 

At  the  close  of  the  service  many  presented 
themselves  for  prayers ;  young  men  were  struck 
with  conviction,  many  promised  to  lead  new  livea. 
Many  hardened  men  professed  a  desire  to  reform, 
and  general  interest  was  awakeneu.  Communion 
Services  were  held,  and  many  partook  of  the  Euchar- 
ist for  the  first  time.  Thus  were  the  influence  of 
my  mother's  grave,  and  her  "Shadowy  Hand,"  a 
blessing  to  the  neighborhood.  The  unction  I 
received  at  that  grave  I  brought  with  me  to  Bos- 
ton. The  subject  of  my  discourse  was,  "My 
Mother, — Her  Shadow  Still  Lingers."  The  house 
was  crowded.  Many  of  my  parishioners  who  had 
heard  me  tell  the  story  of  my  mother's  consecra- 
tion, her  prayers  and  trials,  were  moved  to  tears. 

That  night  the  altar  was  crowded  with  inquiring 
souls.  "  My  mother  !  her  shadow  still  lingered  !  " 
It  lingered  in  the  church,  it  lingered  in  my  heart, 
and  may  it  linger  forever  more  I 


342  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

Testimonial  Service  to  the  Aged.  —  Service  in  Morgan  Chapel 
—  Inmates  of  the  Old  Men's  and  Old  "Women's  Homes.— 
The  several  Ages  of  the  Old  People  — Fathers  Cleveland 
and  Rogers  represent  200  years,  Mrs.  Hawley  96.  —  Presenta- 
tion of  Gifts  to  the  very  Aged.  —  Address  of  Welcome.  — 
Donors  and  Recipients.  — Floral  Distribution. 

ROM  the  Bostofi  Journal,  Monday,  June 
"  27,  1870: 

"  Testimonial  Service  to  the  Aged. —  A 
very  interesting  service  was  held  in  Mor- 
gan Chapel,  formerly  Indiana  Place  Chapel,  yester- 
day forenoon,  as  a  testimonial  to  the  aged.  The 
object  of  it  was,  as  stated  from  the  pulpit  by  Rev. 
Henry  Morgan,  to  show  that  the  righteous  have 
long  lives,  and  the  wicked  do  not  live  out  half 
their  days. 

"  The  chapel  was  completely  filled  with  the  old 
people  and  their  friends,  and  curious  spectators. 
The  front  part  of  the  body  of  the  chapel  was 
reserved  for  the  old  folks  in  the  old-fashioned  way, 
the  women  on  one  side,  and  the  men  on  the  other. 
A  large  number  of  the  old  people  were  from  the 
Old  Men's  Home  and  the  Old  Women's  Home, 
and  were  brought  in  carriages,  gratuitously  fur- 


'Mv  MOTHER!  HER  SHADOW  PTILL  LINGERS!"    Page  342. 

"Never  too  poor  to  pray, 
Never  to  weak  to  win." 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  343 

iiished  by  Mr.  Barnard,  Mr.  Garcelon,  and  Mr. 
Wrightington.  There  were  forty-two  old  ladies 
from  the  Home,  twenty-eight  of  whom  were  over 
80  years  old:  among  them  Sarah  Cooper,  Lucy 
Page,  Sarah  Hawes,  each  86,  and  Lydia  Knowles, 
85.  Some  of  the  oldest  ones  were  quite  feeble, 
while  others  walked  up  the  steps  into  the  chapel 
quite  smartly.  The  oldest  man  was  Mr.  James 
R.  Rogers,  102  years  old  next  August.  He  and 
Father  Cleveland,  now  in  his  99th  year,  came  into 
the  chapel  together,  Father  Cleveland  acting  as 
the  young  guide  of  his  companion,  of  whom  he 
appeared  anxious  to  take  the  best  possible  care. 
Mr.  Rogers  appeared  quite  smart,  although  some- 
what deaf.  He  is  a  slender  man,  of  medium 
height,  with  hair  as  white  as  snow,  and  quite  long. 
When  asked  by  Mr.  Morgan  if  he  could  read  to 
the  congregation  the  23d  Psalm,  as  arranged  for 
on  the.  programme,  he  answered,  'No,  I  don't 
think  I  can,  without  my  specs.'  (It  would  not  be 
at  all  surprising  if  he  could  not.) 

"  Father  Cleveland  volunteered  to  do  it  for  him, 
and  the  pair  went  arm-in-arm  down  the  aisle  to  a 
front  seat,  representing,  between  them,  just  two 
hundred  years.  The  oldest  lady  present  was  Mrs. 
Hannah  Hawley,  96  years  old.  There  were  prob- 
ably seventy  old  persons  present,  whose  united 
ages  would  Duak")  five  thousand  years,  or  an  aver- 


344  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

age  of  a  little  over  71  years  apiece.  It  was  u 
spectacle  rarely  seen  anywhere,  and  an  occasion 
long  to  be  remembered. 

"Mr.  Morgan  conducted  the  services,  which 
were  opened  by  the  singing  of  a  couple  of  verses 
of  'There  Will  Be  No  More  Sorrow  There.' 
Father  Cleveland  then  began  the  reading  of  the 
71st  Psalm,  and  got  through  with  two  or  three 
verses,  when  he  was  obliged  to  stop,  on  account 
of  the  dimness  of  the  light. 

"Mr.  Morgan  explained  that  the  Bible  from 
which  he  was  reading  was  the  new  one  from 
Crocker  &  Brewster,  to  be  given  to  Mr.  Rogers, 
and  was  a  little  smaller  print  than  the  one  used 
in  the  chapel.  He  took  occasion  to  announce  the 
programme  for  the  morning,  and,  while  he  was 
doing  so,  Father  Cleveland  stood  by  his  side. 
When  it  was  stated  that  there  was  so  large  a  num- 
ber of  old  ladies  present,  Father  Cleveland  asked 
to  be  presented  to  them  all,  and  he  was  taken 
down  among  them,  and  shook  each  of  them  by 
the  hand.  He  subsequently  asked  to  have  the 
oldest  lady  present  partake  of  the  Communion 
Service  with  him.  He  then  went  back  into  the 
pulpit  and  offered  prayer,  after  which  Mr.  Mor- 
gan delivered  an  Address  of  Welcome,  in  which 
he  referred  to  the  oldest  present,  mentioning  them 
individually,  but  the  larger  portion  of  them  col- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  345 

lectively.     Some  of  them  stood  up  in  view  of  the 
congregation  when  their  names  were  called. 
"  Mr.  Morgan's  Address  of  Welcome  : 

'  What  do  I  see  ?  The  blossom  and  the  har- 
vest of  well-spent  lives.  I  see  venerable  heads 
crowned  with  the  coronet  of  a  glorious  old  age. 
Brave  men  !  Noble  women  !  How  grandly  have 
ye  waged  Life's  battle  ! 

'  Your  silvery  locks  are  whitened  by  the  frosts 
of  many  a  bereavement,  and  bleached  by  many  a 
desolating  sorrow.  As  your  sun  sets,  may  your 
decline  be  cloudless  !  Though  your  departure 
leave  the  night  of  bereavement  to  us,  may  you 
shine  as  the  light  of  the  rising  sun  of  a  glorious 
spring  morning  beyond  the  veil ! 

*  Welcome,  all  ye  aged  !  centenary  oaks  of 
a  departed  forest !  monuments  'of  temperance 
and  godliness  !  "  The  wicked  shall  not  live  out 
half  their  days  " ;  vice  shortens  life,  and  righteous- 
ness prolongs  it.  Your  lives  are  the  proof  of 
virtue.  Welcome  from  the  Homes  of  the  Aged  ! 
Ye  are  reverenced  by  all.  In  honoring  you, 
Boston  indeed  doubly  honors  herself. 

'What  crowns  and  dynasties  have  ye  seen 
rise  and  fall !  What  monarchies  change  and  fade, 
like  views  in  the  kaleidoscope  !  Ye  have  seen 
Europe  re-mapped,  seen  shackles  falling,  despot- 
isms tumbling,  America  become  independent ;  ye 


346  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

have  seen  the  growth  of  Liberty,  Science,  and 
Art.  Steam  and  electricity,  marine  propellers, 
steam  printing-presses,  have  startled  your  lives, 
and  then  become  things  of  every-day  life.  Stage- 
coaches have  given  place  to  locomotives,  and 
the  old  signal  to  the  electric  wire,  with  its 
instantaneous  world-message !  Ye  have  seen 
cities  rise  as  if  in  one  day,  and  new  States  and 
Territories  added  to  our  galaxy,  as  if  by  magic. 
In  1770,  Boston  was  but  a  little  sea-port  town; 
now  it  is  a  city  of  a  quarter  of  a  million,  and 
has  a  mighty  weight  in  national  affairs.  Boston 
says  to  the  Pacific  Railroad,  "Be  thou  completed," 
and  the  Occident  greets  the  orient,  —  the  Atlantic 
and  the  Pacific  meet  together.  Then,  the  cities 
of  Chicago  and  of  the  West  were  but  a  howling 
wilderness  ;  and  now,  but  ahundred  years  after,  hav- 
ing attained  immense  size  and  wealth,  surpass  her 
in  enterprise  and  commerce.  Your  history  is  the 
history  of  YOUR  COUNTRY.  Born  with  its  birth, 
ye  grew  with  its  growth  and  are  honored  in  its 
greatness. 

"'Who  can  tell  the  developments  of  1970? 
Intellect  is  hushed  in  the  contemplation. 

"This  is  a  day  of  reunion;  a  reunion,  indeed, 
not  merely  of  the  present,  but  the  long  past. 
The  occasion  calls  up  scenes  of  the  past,  —  old 
memories  and  old  friends .  I  see  shadows  flicker  by, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  347 

—  shadows  of  long-absent  ones  as  we  knew  them 
and  loved  them  of  yore,  in  the  old  garb  and  form 
and  feature,  hovering  near  and  mingling  with 
the  throng.  And  the  ancient  and  the  honorable 
are  here,  hearts  beating  with  yours,  kind  friends, 
and  rejoicing  at  your  coronation-day.  Again  and 
again,  a  thousand  times  Welcome!' 

"The  Communion  Service  was  then  performed, 
in  which  all  persons  who  loved  Jesus  Christ  were 
invited  to  join. 

"  The  presentation  then  took  place  as  follows  : 

"A  large  gilt-edged  Bible  to  the  oldest  man, 
Mr.  James  R.  Rogers,  born  in  Virginia  August 
21,  1769,  — 102  years  old  next  August. 

w  A  silver  goblet,  given  by  Crosby,  Foss  & 
Morse,  to  the.  oldest  lady,  Mrs.  Hannah  Hawley, 
born  in  Stratham,  N.  H.,  August  26,  1774, — 96 
years  old. 

"A  silver  goblet,  given  by  Bigelow  Bros.  & 
Kennard,  to  the  oldest  woman  in  the  home  — 
Emma  "W.  Skelton — born  in  Ashburnham,  Mass., 
Dec.  18,  1777,  —93  years  old. 

"  A  silver  goblet,  given  by  the  Sunday-school 
of  the  chapel  to  Quiiicy  Tufts,  a  patron  of  the 
Mission,  born  in  Weymouth  July  4,  1791,  —  79 
years  old. 

"A  chromo,  'Easter  Morning,'  given  by  Prang 
&  Co.  to  Father  Cleveland. 


348  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

*  A  silver  goblet  to  Ethan  Allen  De  Wolf,— 94 
years  old. 

"  The  goblets  were  used  in  the  Communion 
Service  during  the  forenoon.  Father  Cleveland 
was  honored  with  the  title  of  Chaplain  of  the 
Day. 

"During  the  services,  Mr.  Morgan  announced 
that  he  should  be  compelled  to  suspend  his  per- 
sonal attention  to  the  Mission,  at  present,  for  a 
vacation,  by  reason  of  failing  health. 

"  Added  to  the  gifts  above-named,  a  bouquet  of 
artificial  or  live  flowers,  as  was  desired,  was 
given  to  each  old  person  present,  and  the  distribu- 
tion was  quite  extensive.  They  were  exhibited  in 
the  rear  of  the  pulpit  .during  the  services,  and 
made  a  very  attractive  display." 

In  the  evening  I  delivered  the  following  lecture, 
reported  by  the  Voice  : 

"Heroines  of  the  Fireside.  —  "She  hath  done 
what  she  could . "  —  Mark  xi v .  8 .  What  constitutes 
a  hero  ?  He  is  a  man  who  makes  the  best  of  cir- 
cumstances ;  he  masters  himself  and  his  position. 
He  is  intrepid,  magnanimous,  illustrious,  brave. 
The  hero  of  common  life  is  noble  without  oppor- 
tunity, heroic  in  small  things.  He  is  a  king  with- 
out a  kingdom  —  a  millionaire  without  a  dollar 
—  a  general  without  an  army  —  a  patriot  in 
obscurity — a  saint  under  obloquy.  We  don't 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  349 

go  to  war  to  find  such  heroes ;  we  don't  seek 
them  in  high  life.  Heaven  keeps  their  record ; 
heaven  is  their  arbiter.  They  are  found  in  the 
street  and  at  the  fireside.  There  is  no  disinter- 
ested heroism  like  that  of  woman.  None  will 
endure,  bear,  or  forbear  more  than  she.  Who 
like  her  will  bear  the  seven  evils  of  a  brutal 
husband  ?  Who  like  her  will  submit  to  his  selfish- 
ness, moroseness,  jealousy,  gaming,  drinking,  and 
brutality  ?  God  only  knows  what  she  suffers ! 
Being  reviled,  she  reviles  not  again ;  persecuted, 
she  threatens  not.  As  a  lamb  led  to  the  slaughter, 
and  as  a  sheep  dumb  before  the  shearers,  she  opens 
not  her  mouth. 

w ' 'Heroines  of  the  Side-room.  —  Who  is  the  minis- 
tering angel  of  the  sick-room  ?  Who  smooths  the 
pillow  of  the  dying?  Who  brings  the  reviving 
cordial  to  the  parched  lips  ?  Who  wipes  the  beaded 
death-drops  from  the  aching  brow?  Who  cools 
the  burning  fever  of  the  whirling  brain?  Who, 
with  face  all  radiant  with  hope,  bends  over  the 
sufferer  in  prayer?  Who,  with  unyielding  faith, 
wrestles  with  the  promises  of  God  to  stay  the  flit- 
ting light  of  life?  Who,  hoping  against  hope, 
unflinchingly  watches  and  pleads  to  the  bitter 

end? 

"  O  woman  !  in  our  hour  of  ease, 
Uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to  please, 
When  pain  and  anguish  ring  the  brow, 
A  ministering  angel  thoul  "  ' 


350  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

"Mr  Morgan  also  spoke  of  Florence  Nightingale, 
and  Dorothy  Dix,  the  world-renowned  philanthro- 
pist,—  a  ministering  angel  among  prisons,  hos- 
pitals, and  insane  retreats. 

* '  Heroism  of  the  Needle-woman.  —  What  an 
army  of  martyrs  do  the  ten  thousand  needle-women 
of  this  city  present !  What  untold  sufferings  are 
experienced  by  these  slaves  of  an  unnatural  system 
of  labor,  that  compels  them  to  work  sixteen  hours 
a  day  for  scarcely  a  subsistence  !  Oh,  the  horror 
of  their  condition  !  Oh,  the  pitiful  objects,  starv- 
ing on  their  scanty  pittance,  pale,  haggard,  lungs 
consuming,  filling  thousands  of  graves  every 
year ! ' 

"  Mr.  Morgan  portrayed  the  death-scenes  of  sev- 
eral needle-women  of  his  congregation :  one,  a 
girl,  too  proud  to  ask  for  charities,  returning  from 
a  laborious  day's  work  to  her  cold  room  at  night, 
with  garments  dripping  from  the  storm,  without  a 
fire,  or  even  the  stimulant  of  a  cup  of  tea  to  revive 
her  sinking  frame,  until  at  last  she  yielded  to  her 
fate. 

"  Another,  a  mother  striving  to  obtain  bread  for 
her  famishing  children,  by  making  drawers  at  five 
cents  a  pair,  while  sitting  in  her  bed,  with  but  a  thin 
shawl  for  a  covering  in  lieu  of  a  fire  to  keep  her 
warm,  striving,  even  in  the  agonies  of  death,  to 
take  one  more  stitch  for  her  little  ones,  literally 
died  with  her  needle  in  hand. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  351 

"He  spoke  of  the  Factory  Girl  supporting 
a  sick  mother  by  working  from  dawn  to  dark, 
never  seeing  home  by  daylight  for  six  months  of 
the  year,  excepting  on  the  Sabbath.  Yet  more 
heroic  than  any,  or  all  of  these,  is  the  girl  who, 
finding  herself  without  work,  friendless  in  a  strange 
city,  has  the  moral  courage  to  withstand  every 
temptation,  resolving  to  starve  or  freeze  rather 
than  yield  to  a  life  of  infamy. 

"'Arise,  ye  needle-women  of  America!  and 
demand  proper  employment  and  remunerative 
wages.  Come  thundering  at  the  door  of  public 
opinion,  and  popular  prejudice,  and  say,  "Give 
us  a  chance  for  our  lives ;  give  us  place,  give 
us  work,  give  us  wages  !  If  we  are  fit  for  places 
now  occupied  by  men,  give  us  those  places ;  if 
we  can  earn  as  much  as  men,  then  give  us  men's 
wages ! " 

:' '  Let  another  Harriet  Hosmer  appear  with  her 
"Zenobia,"  another  Louisa  Lander  with  her  "Vir- 
ginia Dare,"  and  another  Miss  Whitney  with  her 
"  Godiva  "  !  Let  another  Emma  Stebbius  arise  with 
her  statue  of  Massachusetts'  great  educator,  Hor- 
ace Mann  !  Let  another  Miss  Mitchell  appear  to 
measure  the  distances  of  the  fixed  stars,  and 
weigh  the  planets  in  their  courses  ! 

"  'Arise  ye  teachers,  ye  public  educators  !  hold 
your  place  in  the  school-room ;  make  yourselves 


352  SHADOWY  HAND;   OB, 

equal  to  men  in  your  profession ;  then  demand 
men's  wages,  or  proper  remuneration. 

"'Radical  changes  demand  radical  efforts.  Arise, 
then,  and  let  superhuman  efforts  be  put  forth ! 
Humanity  demands  it,  civilization  demands  it, 
Christianity  demands  it  1  God  Almighty  demands 
that  every  yoke  be  broken,  and  the  oppressed  go 
free. 

"  O  ye  sordid  contractors  !  hear  the  cry  of  the 
wretched  and  dying ! 

"Hark,  from  under  the  altars,  the  cry  of  the 
souls  of  those  who  have  been  martyred,  saying, 
"How  long,  O  Lord,  holy  and  true,  dost  Thou  not 
judge  and  avenge  our  blood  on  them  that  dwell  on 
the  earth?"  Up,  up,  up,  ye  women  of  America ! 
Strike  for  your  rights  !  Dash  the  cup  of  sorrow 
from  bleeding  lips  !  Elevate  the  condition,  health, 
and  hopes  of  woman.  Up  !  and  give  her  equal 
position  in  labor.  Up  !  and  make  labor  honorable 
as  well  as  remunerative.  Up  !  and  battle  for  the 
right;  make  woman  feel  her  nobility  ;  let  her  be- 
come self-reliant,  heroic,  independent,  indomitable. 

:tf  Let  the  pale  consumptive  hold  up  to  her  des- 
troyers the  glittering  weapon  of  her  death,  that 
conscience-stinging  needle,  as  one  through  whose 
eye  the  scriptural  camel  might  as  easily  pass  as 
for  them  to  think  of  entering  the  kingdom  of 
heaven. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  353 

" '  Oh  !  what  a  drain  of  life,  and  nerve,  and  hope, 
and  heaven  !  "What  a  long  procession  on  the  road 
of  Time.  Up,  ye  women  of  America  !  Let  your 
voices  be  heard  for  the  oppressed  !  Tens  of  thou- 
sands, now  struggling  for  a  livelihood,  demand 
your  aid.  Oh  !  awake,  awake  ! ' 

"The  house  was  more  than  usually  crowded, 
every  aisle  and  standing-place  being  occupied." 


354  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

Railroad  of  Life. — Lecturer  Disconcerted. — Dissertation  on 
Babies.  —  Locomotive  Whistle.  —  Sinners'  Train.  —  How 
Sinners  Trembled. — Whole  Audience  Alarmed.  —  Sermon 
in  Full. — Description  of  Trains. — Redemption  Train. — 
Invitation.  —  "All  Aboard  ! " 

HE  effect  of  a  lecture  or  a  sermon  may  be 
destroyed  by  the  slightest  incident;  — 
the  squall  of  a  baby,  the  fall  of  a  fan,  tho 
cry  of  fire,  or  the  whistle  of  a  locomotive. 
"When  holding  meetings  in  the  backwoods  of  Vir- 
ginia, I  found  people  almost  always  bringing  with 
them  babies  in  their  arms.  Mothers  were  proud 
of  them.  They  wanted  to  exhibit  their  youthful 
vivacity.  Babies  were  certain  to  be  my  annoy- 
ance. 

On  one  occasion,  an  interesting  Revival  was 
broken  up  by  the  crying  of  a  baby.  The  audience 
took  sides  ;  some  thought  the  meeting  should  not 
be  disturbed ;  others  pitied  the  baby ;  divisions 
arose,  factions  grew  angry,  the  Revival  ceased. 

Once,  when  I  was  trying  my  best  to  be  sublime, 
gesticulating,  putting  my  foot  down  heavily,  and 
reaching  the  climax  of  my  discour.se,  then  the 
baby  broke  out  in  the  exuberance  of  its  joy  — 


I4TE-STRUGGLE8.  355 

cooing,  crowing,  laughing,  and  clapping  its  hands 
—  till  I  had  to  surrender.  The  mother  thought 
it  all  right.  The  baby  had  "  beat "  the  preacher. 

When  I  came  down  the  aisle,  my  first  introduc- 
tion was  to  the  baby.  It  went, "  Dumpty  !  dumpty- 
diddle-a-dee  ! "  just  the  same  as  it  did  while  I  was 
preaching.  The  mother  seemed  overjoyed  at  its 
innocent  pranks,  and  she  tried  to  place  it  in  my 
arms.  "  No,  I  thank  you,  madam!"  said  I,  taking 
a  step  backward. 

"What,  Mr.  Morgan!  don't  you  love  babies? 
haven't  you  any  babies  at  your  house  ?  " 

What  a  predicament  was  I  in  I  What  a  question 
was  that  to  ask  an  old  bachelor! 

While  delivering,  in  Tweddle  Hall,  Albany,  my 
lecture  in  defence  of  single  women,  entitled  "  Old 
Maids  And  Their  Accusers,"  I  had  come  to  the 
last  grand  appeal,  when  an  alarm  of  "fire"  was 
sounded.  Many  of  the  audience  started,  many 
rushed  out,  leaving  me,  for  the  time  being,  with 
my  "  Old  Maids,"  almost  alone.  It  was  impossible 
for  me  to  rally  and  rouse  the  audience  again 
to  their  former  sympathy. 

Once,  when  preaching  in  my  chapel  situated 
near  the  Boston  and  Albany  Railroad,  preaching 
on  the  "Railroad  Of  Life,"  a  steam-whistle  came 
near  causing  a  catastrophe.  The  chapel  was 
lighted  with  two  locomotive  lamps,  as  a  reminder 


356  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

of  railroad  scenes.  These  lamps  had  been  loaned 
to  the  chapel  while  the  territory  was  being  graded. 
I  was  depicting  the  sinner's  train  on  the  "  Railroad 
of  Life,"  heavily  laden  with  sin,  on  a  descending 
grade,  near  a  crossing.  The  audience  were 
roused  to  a  nervous  state  of  excitement  by  a 
metaphorical  collision,  when  literally,  and  not 
figuratively,  a  rumbling  sound  was  heard,  the 
building  began  to  shake  and  tremble,  and  a  shrill, 
piercing  whistle  from  a  passing  engine  shook  the 
church  to  its  foundation.  It  brought  the  whole 
audience  upon  their  feet,  and  sent  many  fainting 
from  the  house.  Some  appeared  as  though  they 
thought  the  day  of  doom  had  come. 

My  "train  of  argument"  was  off  the  track, — 
its  application  lost.  The  Superintendent  of  the 
road  apolgized,  next  day,  in  the  Daily  Advertiser, 
stating  that  they  had  on  too  much  steam,  were 
near  a  crossing,  and  that  the  sound  could  not  be 
avoided.  I  had  before  delivered  the  discourse  a 
dozen  times  in  Boston,  with  good  results.  I  had 
also  delivered  it  over  my  mother's  grave,  when  its 
effects  were  perfectly  overwhelming.  I  give,  be- 
low, the  sermon : 

"Railroad  of  Life.  —  Text:  'Wheels  like  a 
whirlwind.'  —  Is.  v.  28. 

"  From  this  text  I  picture  the  Railroad  of  Life 
Upon  it  are  two  trains :  the  first  is  the  Sinners 


UTE-STRUGGLES.  357 

Train,  aiid  the  second  is  the  Train  of  the  Al- 
mighty. 

"  The  Sinners'  Train  is  a  long  one  of  decorated 
cars ,  with  every  modern  improvement.  It  is  bound 
from  the  heights  of  folly  to  the  pit  of  destruction, 
and  unless  checked  in  its  course,  and  switched 
upon  another  track,  its  career  is  usually  short.  It 
is  ever  on  the  descending  grade,  and  is  hurried  on 
by  the  fires  of  passion  and  pride.  It  crosses  the 
track  of  the  decrees  of  the  Almighty,  and  though 
it  seems  many  times  to  escape  collision,  yet-even- 
tually the  catastrophe  comes.  Its  service  is  volun- 
tary, its  passage  is  free,  and  thousands  travel 
thereon,  because  of  the  sights  by  the  way,  the 
speed  of  the  passage,  and  the  excitements  of  the 
journey.  Besides,  there  are  many  agreeable  pas- 
sengers in  the  train ;  every  one  has  friends  on 
board ;  the  company  is  lively,  and  the  associations 
are  pleasing  to  the  natural  human  heart. 

w  Amusement's  Car.  —  The  first  of  the  train  is 
Amusement's  Car.  This  is  the  most  innocent, 
respectable,  and  fashionable  of  the  train.  All 
men  love  to  be  amused.  Anything  that  will  please 
the  fancy,  or  excite  curiosity,  will  be  acceptable 
to  the  young,  and  not  unfrequently  to  the  old. 
Everybody  has  his  hours  of  relaxation  and  amuse- 
ment ;  and  the  only  danger  of  it  to  the  young  is, 
that  if  it  be  too  much  indulged  in,  it  leads  to  idle- 


358  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

ness,  and  finally  to  vice.  In  this  train  people 
graduate  from  one  car  to  another ;  they  take  the 
most  pleasing  and  respectable  first,  and  then  gradu- 
ate, or  rather  degradate,  from  one  to  another,  until 
they  end  in  misery.  In  this  car  are  bright  lights, 
bright  eyes,  bright  faces,  fair  forms,  splendid 
attire,  rich  tapestry,  gold  embroidery,  silk  brocade, 
wine,  music,  and  women.  Now  comes  the  the- 
atrical excitements,  and  now  the  dance.  The  senses 
are  delighted,  each  cup  of  pleasure  is  full.  All 
care  is  forgotten,  fears  for  the  future  are  banished, 
and  all  thoughts  are  centred  in  the  festivity  of  the 
present  joyous  hour.  Joy  is  added  to  joy,  and 
cheer  to  cheer.  Every  heart  rings  with  delight. 
Flying  feet,  threading  the  mazy  dance,  are  chasing 
the  hours  away ;  and  all  ears  drink  in  the  melody 
of  golden  harps,  struck  by  magic  hands.  Hours 
roll  uncounted,  until  the  heart  is  satiated  and 
sick  with  pleasure.  The  senses  ache  with  extreme 
delight,  and  the  soul  is  cloyed  with  the  surfeit  of 
sensual  enjoyment. 

"  Car  of  Sensuality.  —  Sensnal  pleasures  soon 
lose  their  charms ;  many  of  them  delight  by  nov- 
elty, and  the  heart  is  continually  panting  for  some- 
thing new.  By  giving  full  scope  to  pleasure  the 
moral  powers  become  blunted,  and  grosser  grati- 
fications can  be  indulged  in  without  remorse.  Now 
the  animal  nature  is  triumphing  over  the  spiritual, 


IJFE-STRUGGLES.  359 

and  the  soul  is  being  obscured  in  sense.  The 
appetites  being  pampered,  become  overgrown, 
insubordinate,  and  outrageous ;  indulgence  makes 
them  dictatorial  and  arbitrary,  and  they  will  soon 
brook  no  restraint.  Where  the  animal  predom- 
inates, as  in  this  stage,  the  vicious  is  close  at 
hand. 

"  Car  of  Intemperance.  —  Look  not  for  refine- 
ment here.  Refined  music,  refined  taste,  tidy 
appearance,  manly  bearing,  and  elegant  furniture, 
are  all  done  away  with.  The  early  music  of 
Amusement's  hour  has  given  way  to  the  ribaldric 
Bacchanalian  song.  The  early  taste  for  fine  arts 
is  lost  in  sottishuess,  and  the  rich,  tasty  apparel 
has  become  shabby.  He  has  taken  but  two  degrees 
to  come  to  this,  and  this  is  but  the'  beginning  of 
the  end.  Intemperance  leads  to  other  vices  :  the 
moral  sense  is  blunted,  conscience  is  seared,  the 
fear  of  God  is  banished,  and  bloody  crimes  are  in 
embryo. 

"  Car  of  Crime.  —  Here  comes  the  bloated  form, 
the  blood-shot  eye,  the  squalid  visage  of  a  fiend 
incarnate.  He  is  a  graduate  from  the  cars  of 
Amusement,  Sensuality,  and  Intemperance,  and  is 
now  occupying  not  only  a  second-class  car,  but 
the  last  one  of  the  train.  Here  are  deeds  com- 
mitted, the  thoughts  of  which  would  once  terrify 
the  soul,  and  make  the  pale  brow  bristle  with 


360  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

horror.  But  step  by  step  the  passengers  have 
retrograded,  until  heinous  offences  can  now  be  com- 
mitted with  indifference.  Yet  the  victims  are 
not  at  ease.  Whistles  are  sounding  danger  contin- 
ually, the  bells  of  Conscience  ringing,  and  the 
alarms  from  the  brakemen  are  frequent.  '  There 
is  no  peace  to  the  wicked,'  saith  my  God.  They 
are  as  the  troubled  sea,  having  no  rest.  Every 
sound  terrifies,  and  every  shadow  portends  ven- 
geance. This  car  is  the  most  uneasy  of  all  the 
train,  but  as  it  is  closely  attached  to  the  others  it 
shares  its  risks  with  them.  Its  passengers  have 
close  affinity  to  those  of  the  forward  cars,  being 
once  occupants  of  the  same.  As  destruction 
awaits  the  criminal,  so  must  the  novelty-seeker, 
the  licentious  alid  intemperate,  come  to  an  untimely 
end.  The  avenging  train  of  Divine  wrath  is  upon 
their  track. 

" The  Almighty  Train. — Hark!  What  sound 
is  this  breaking  in  on  the  orgies  of  revelry? 
What  flash  is  that  crossing  the  sinner's  track,  like 
lightning  from  a  cloud?  What  terrible  rumbling 
noise  is  this,  which  makes  every  passenger  shriek, 
and  every  heart  almost  cease  its  pulsation  ?  Hark  ! 
nearer  it  comes  !  Listen  !  it  is  the  voice  of  God. 
The  car  of  His  avenging  wrath  is  coming  down 
upon  the  sinner's  track.  Sin  has  kindled  the 
engine-fires  of  His  wrath,  and  the  strength  of  siu 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  361 

is  the  law.  The  projecting  bars  and  spears  front- 
ing the  engine  are  Sin's  darts  of  death,  each 
backed  up  by  law.  With  the  speed  of  a  whirlwind 
the  train  of  legality  is  coming  down  upon  the 
ungodly,  freighted  with  the  crimes  of  a  lifetime. 

O  •/    f  O 

Hark !  that  long,  shrill,  hideous  whistle,  making 
darkness  terrible  by  its  deafening  shriek.  Lo, 
through  the  darkness  peering,  that  light !  It  is 
the  Lamp  of  God's  Word  !  Now  rings  the  bell 
of  Conscience ;  now  faster  and  louder  it  rings. 
Now,  full  blazing  through  the  darkness,  is  seen  the 
raging  engine,  pistons  working  like  lightning ! 
Now  the  earth  quakes ;  now  a  terrible  jar ;  now 
the  rushing  breath  of  the  monster  of  Death  I 
On  comes  the  ponderous  train,  swifter  whM  the 
impetuous  wheels,  louder  rings  the  bell,  and  ten- 
fold louder  sounds  the  clarion-shrieking  whistle  ! 
On  !  on  !  on  !  Clear  the  track  !  See  that  light ! 
It  is  the  calcium-light  of  conviction  !  Turn  ye  ! 
sinners,  turn  ye  !  Why  will  ye  die  ?  Down  with 
the  brakes  !  Reverse  the  engine  I  Leap  for  life  ! 
Flee  !  flee  !  flee  !  Alas  !  it  is  too  late.  Nothing 

o 

but  a  miracle  of  God's  grace  can  save  you  !  It  is 
the  Son  of  God,  that,  falling  into  the  breach,  is 
crushed  to  death  that  you  might  live  ! 

"  Redemption.  —  Now  when  the  train  of  legality 
is  at  its  fullest  speed,  the  Great  Conductor 
emerges  from  the  forward  car  with  the  destinies 


362  SHADOWY  HAISD;  OB, 

of  life  and  death  upon  His  brow,  and  blood  burst- 
ing from  His  veins.  He  had  been  in  agony  of 
prayer  until  He  had  sweat  great  drops  of  blood, 
praying  that  the  catastrophe  might  be  averted. 
But  nothing  but  blood  could  stop  the  train,  — 
nothing  but  the  blood  of  God's  Son.  Not  all  the 
men  and  angels  of  earth  and  heaven  could  furnish 
brakemen  sufficient  to  impede  its  force.  He  cried  : 
*  Father,  may  not  this  cup  pass  from  me  except 
I  drink  it?  Then  Thy  will  be  done  ! '  So  saying, 
he  seizes  the  signal  flag  of  Redemption,  leaps  to 
the  front  of  the  engine,  stands  upon  the  barbed 
points  of  law,  and  is  crushed  to  death  !  Earth 
quaked  and  groaned  at  the  sight,  and  the  shudder- 
ing heavens  frowned  in  horror.  But  the  train  is 
stopped,  and  a  world's  calamity  averted.  A 
coroner's  inquest  is  held.  Justice  cries,  flt  is 
enough;'  Law  says,  fl  am  satisfied.'  Mercy  was 
then  and  there  born ;  and  Love,  Peace,  Joy  and 
Sanctification  were  the  children  of  this  catastrophe. 
"New  Trains. — But  the  Conductor  was  not 
long  holden  in  death.  After  three  days  He  rose 
to  life  again,  and  began  to  remodel  the  shattered 
and  broken  trains.  All  things  were  now  changed  : 
the  new  cars  of  Mercy,  Peace,  Joy,  and  Sanctifica- 
tion were  placed  upon  the  track ;  new  engines, 
having  new  motive-power,  were  attached,  to  which 
were  added  Faith,  and  to  Faith  Virtue,  and  to 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  363 

Virtue  Knowledge,  and  to  Knowledge  Temper- 
ance, and  to  Temperance  Godliness,  and  to 
Godliness  Brotherly  Kindness,  and  to  Brotherly 
Kindness  Charity.  Everything  within  and  with- 
out presented  a  new  creation,  like  loyalty  rising 
from  rebellion. 

"  Recapitulation.  — I  have  now  described  to  you 
two  mighty  opposing  principles,  in  figures  of  two 
impetuous  trains  of  cars  coming  in  collision. 
The  first  is  the  Sinners'  Train ,  bound  to  destruction 
unless  prevented  by  the  Almighty's  Train  crossing 
its  track.  We  have  seen  a  new  creation  formed, 
and  a  new  train  started.  This  new  train  is 
moving  from  the  Pit  of  Destruction  to  the  City 
of  God.  The  Conductor  has  redeemed  it,  and 
insured  it  a  safe  passage,  with  His  own  blood. 
He  furnishes  free  passage  for  all  who  give  proof 
of  their  worthiness.  There  is  a  depot  at  every 
village  on  the  way. 

"The  train  is  a  long  one,  and  there  is  room  for 
all,  and  a  book  for  a  directory,  and  there  are  ap- 
pointed ticket  agents  all  along  the  line.  The  mov- 
ing of  the  train  is  very  exact  in  time  ;  more  travellers 
lose  their  passage  by  delay  than  in  any  other  way. 
It  is  better  to  be  fifty  minutes  too  early  than  one 
minute  too  late,  The  check  given  is  a  'white 
stone  with  a  new  name  written,  that  no  man  know- 


£64  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

eth  save  him  that  receiveth  it ' ;  and  it  will  pass  only 
with  the  conductor. 

w  Invitation.  —  I  see  by  the  crowd  that  has  gath- 
ered here,  and  by  the  intense  interest  manifest, 
that  your  consciences  are  awakened.  The  Gospel- 
train  is  athand.  I  see  by  the  time-table,  whichsays, 
*  Now  is  the  accepted  time,'  that  not  a  moment  is 
to  be  lost.  The  alarm  already  sounds  for  clearing 
tHe  track,  —  warning  is  given.  Let  no  unneces- 
sary baggage,  or  society,  or  friendship,  be  a  hin- 
drance. The  tocsin  sounds,  —  the  cars  are  com- 
ing! Up,  and  ready!  Now  for  a  baggage-check ; 
now  for  a  pass-ticket.  Farewell,  friends,  —  clear 
the  track  !  The  earth  trembles  —  the  building  jars 

—  the  air  yields  —  the  train  is  here  ;  yet  but  for  a 
moment  does  it  stop.     '  All  aboard  ! '  is  the  cry ; 
the  bell  rings,  the  whistle  shrieks ;  no  time  for 
parting  words,  no  vain  regrets,  no  looking  back ! 
Start  now  or  never  !     All  aboard  !     All  aboard  ' 
The  conductor  waves  his  hand.     The  piston  moves, 
the  wheels  turn,  the  irons  creak,  the  connections 
rattle,  the  train  starts  —  a  hissing,  grating  sound 

—  a  mighty  puff  from  the  engine  —  now  another  ! 
Quick !    quick !    another !      Leap !     leap  !     leap 
aboard,  or  you  must  be  left  behind  !  " 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  365 


CHAPTEE    XXXV. 

1  My  Experience  in  the  Brick  Business."  —  From  Jerusalem 
to  Jericho.  —  Fell  among  Thieves.  —  Extension  of  Shaw- 
mut  Avenue.  —  Raising  of  the  Chapel.  —  My  Experiment 
among  Tramps  and  Street  Idlers.  —  Anecdotes.  —  Testimo- 
nial Services  in  Music  Hall.  —  Presentation  by  Mayor 
Gaston  to  John  Cavanaugh  and  Isaac  C.  Cooper. — Lecture 
on  "Workers  and  Shirkers." 

CERTAIN  man  went  down  from  Jerusalem 
to  Jericho,  and  fell  among  thieves.  (J 
was  that  man.)  My  Jerusalem  was  preach- 
ing the  Gospel,  my  Jericho  was  the  Brick 
Business.  The  thieves  I  fell  among  were  tramps, 
street  gamins,  and  idlers.  When  the  Priest  and 
the  Levite  passed  by  on  the  other  side,  I  had  no 
Good  Samaritan  to  pour  in  the  oil  and  the  wine 
upon  my  wounded  feelings.  All  said:  "Served 
him  right!  He  should  have  kept  out  of  Jericho." 
The  grade  of  the  territory  on  which  the  chapel 
stood  was  to  be  raised  some  twelve  feet,  and 
Shawmut  Avenue  extended  directly  before  the 
door.  Improvements  would  enhance  the  value  of 
the  property,  but  the  Betterment  Taxes  would  be 
heavy.  The  city  offered  to  convey  to  me  two 
adjoining  dwellings,  provided  I  would  raise  the 
chapel  seventeen  feet  at  my  own  expense,  and 


366  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

place  the  two  dwel  lings  in  the  same  block  on  the 
line  of  the  Avenue.  This  would  make  what  is 
now  known  as  "MORGAN  CHAPEL  BUILDING." 

There  were  a  number  of  old  buildings  to  be 
removed,  to  make  way  for  the  extension.     I  pur 
chased  enough  wood,  brick,  and  stone  to  make 
the  necessary  repairs  for  the  chapel. 

No  sooner  had  the  auction-sale  closed,  than, 
to  my  surprise,  a  number  of  street-boys  rushed 
into  the  houses,  through  the  windows,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  lay  violent  hands  on  everything  portable. 
Anything  they  could  dispose  of — lead,  copper, 
and  other  metals  —  disappeared  in  a  twinkling.  I 
felt  indignant  at  their  audacity ,  and  began  to  preach 
to  them  a  sermon  on  the  "Sin  of  Stealing."  I  felt 
the  guilt  of  the  sin,  — I  felt  its  full  enormity.  I 
had  a  perfect  abhorrence  of  it.  I  had  a  personal 
interest  in  preaching  against  stealing.  The  sin 
was  costly,  —  at  least  it  was  becoming  costly  to 
me.  I  chafed,  I  kindled,  I  jumped.  I  felt  like 
preaching  old  Puritanic  doctrine.  Perhaps,  how- 
ever, a  policeman's  cane  would  have  brought 
deeper  conviction  than  my  preaching. 

At  last  I  thought,  if  my  words  had  made  any 
impression  on  them  —  brought  any  conviction  —  I 
would  not  care  for  the  lead,  I  would  rejoice  in  the 
opportunity  of  doing  good.  Oh,  if  I  could  see 
one  person  reclaimed,  it  would  pay  me  for  all  my 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  367 

loss  and  trouble  !  Finally  I  did  see  one  returning 
demurely,  and  with  penitent  look.  "  There's  my 
fruit,"  I  said.  I  pitied  the  poor  urchin  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart.  But  I  thought,  "  Were  there 
not  ten  thieves?  Where  are  the  nine?"  Still 
I  would  be  thankful  for  one  that  would  repent. 

He  approached  me  slowly,  with  head  bowed 
and  countenance  sad,  but  at  a  respectful  distance, 
still  keeping  behind  the  fence.  I  began  to  sus- 
pect his  penitence  was  not  altogether  genuine. 
He  shouted,  waving  his  hand  with  the  stolen  lead, 
"  Mister  !  mister  !  "  till  he  had  caught  my  atten- 
tion. 

"Well,  what  is  it,  my  boy?"  I  asked;  "have 
you  come  to  confess,  and  restore  my  property?" 

"  Mister  !  mister  I  Look-a-here  !  "  he  said,  as 
he  saw  he  had  caught  my  eye.  "Mister!  mister  I 
You  can't  catch  us  fellers,  we  be  too  smart  for 
you ;  "  and,  to  my  astonishment  and  horror,  he 
placed  his  thumb  and  fingers  to  his  nose,  gestic- 
ulated like  the  clown  in  the  pantomime,  and  took 
to  his  heels. 

Alas !  this  was  all  the  confession  I  received, 
and  all  the  satisfaction  I  had,  for  my  stolen  prop- 
erty. 

The  three  old  buildings  which  I  bought  at  auc- 
tion were  the  temptation  which  led  me  among 
thieves.  Thieves  claim  a  right  to  old  houses, 


368  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

by  the  dower  of  decaying  Nature.  This  tearing 
down  is  demoralizing,  whether  it  be  tearing  down 
reputations,  churches,  families  or  buildings.  It 
attracts  a  motley  crowd.  I  paid  my  men  each 
night.  Tramps  and  strolling  laborers  were  abun- 
dant, all  glad  to  get  so  quick  returns  for  their  work. 
Hundreds,  even  thousands,  of  idlers  in  large  cities, 
having  nothing  to  do,  would  jump  for  a  dollar.  I 
had  a  thousand  dollars  to  spend  as  an  experiment 
in  this  business.  I  employed  from  ten  to  twenty 
men  a  day,  as  they  came  along;  some  worked 
half  a  day,  some  a  whole  day,  and  some  a  few  hours, 
for  money  to  spend  for  gratification  of  the  appe- 
tite. Among  the  laborers  were  men  once  in  good 
position  —  professional  men  —  some  once  in  for- 
tune—  some  were  clerks  and  students  that  had 
been  expelled.  Clothing  and  character  were  alike 
shattered ;  some  had  been  good  mechanics,  but 
drink  had  ruined  them ;  all  working  with  the  ham- 
mer, the  axe,  the  crow-bar,  the  shovel,  the  wheel- 
barrow, and  nearly  all  watching  for  a  chance  to 
dodge  out,  and  shirk  from  duty. 

I,  myself,  worked  with  the  men.  They  came 
by  the  score ;  begged  for  work,  told  of  their 
need,  their  destitution.  One  came  in  tears ;  he 
said  he  knew  Father  Morgan  was  a  benevolent 
man,  the  most  betievolcntest  man  in  Boston ;  all 
the  saints  would  bless  him  if  he  would  give  poor 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  369 

Pat  Maloney  a  bit  of  work.  He  looked  hale  and 
hearty  ;  I  set  him  to  work.  WLen  he  found  he 
must  keep  up  with  me,  he  begged  harder  to  get 
out  of  it  —  to  quit  work  —  and  be  paid  off,  than 
he  did  for  the  job. 

One  man  was  to  clean  bricks  by  count.  How 
industrious  he  would  work  till  all  the  men  had 
got  out  of  sight ;  then  he  would  steal  bricks  from 
another  pile,  to  make  up  his  hundreds  ! 

Another  stole  a  watch  from  one  of  his  fellow- 
laborers,  and  afterwards  was  appointed  a  watch- 
man, to  guard  building  material.  Most  of  the 
material,  to  the  astonishment  of  his  employers, 
disappeared  in  the  night. 

Experience  to  me  was  of  more  value  than  the 
money  expended.  I  lectured  on  "My  Experience 
in  the  Brick  Business,"  realizing  several  hundred 
dollars,  and  found  it  to  pay  better  than  the 
business  itself. 

MORAL.  —  More  than  ever  have  I  learned  to 
honor  a  true  mechanic  ;  he  who  does  things  on  the 
square ;  who  starts  from  the  curb-stone,  and  rises 
to  a  master-builder;  one  who  is  found  in  his 
dealings  rectangular,  perpendicular,  "  Square  as  a 
Brick." 

The  substance  of  the  following  is  from  the 
Boston  Traveller,  December  4,  1871 : 

"The  testimonial  services  in  honor  of  the  con- 
24 


370  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

tributors  to  raising  and  repairing  Morgan  Chapel, 
attracted  a  vast  audience  in  Boston  Music  Hall. 
Many  distinguished  gentlemen  were  on  the  plat- 
form. After  the  organ  concert,  and  prayer,  Mr. 
Morgan  introduced  His  Honor  Mayor  Gaston,  as 
one  of  those  who  had  assisted  in  electing  Kirn 
Chaplain  of  the  Massachusetts  Senate.  His 
Honor  made  a  presentation-speech  in  conveying 
two  testimonials,  contributed  by  the  merchants 
of  the  city ;  the  first  to  Mr.  John  Cavanaugh, 
who  raised  the  building  to  its  present  grade.  It 
was  an  unique  medal  in  the  shape  of  a  silver  jack- 
screw,  an  appropriate  symbol  of  his  profession. 
This  was  a  present  from  Crosby,  Morse  and  Foss, 
jewellers;  Mr.  Cavanaugh  was  the  largest  con- 
tributor, having  donated  a  thousand  dollars  towards 
repairing  the  chapel.  He  was  a  Catholic  ;  formerly 
attended  worship  at  the  Franklin  Building,  finally 
went  back  to  his  own  church,  and  became  Super- 
intendent of  the  Sunday-school.  He  helped  Mr. 
Morgan  in  gratitude  for  what  he  had  done  for 
the  news-boys,  and  boys  of  the  street.  In  turn, 
a  few  citizens  resolved  to  tender  him  a  testimonial ; 
thus"  'Bread  cast  upon  the  waters,  was  found 
after  many  days.' " 

"The  other  testimonial  was  an  illustrated  gilt 
quarto  Bible,  the  gift  of  Crocker  &  Brewster, 
which  was  presented  to  Mr.  Isaac  C.  Cooper, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES .  371 

Mason  and  Builder,  who  was  the  second  largest 
contributor,  he  doing  the  work  $500  less  than  the 
figures  marked  by  any  other  contractor.  After 
the  presentation-services,  Mr.  Morgan  delivered 
his  lecture  on  'My  Experience  in  the  Brick 
Business  :  Workers  and  Shirkers.' 

"Said  the  speaker:  'The  world  of  mankind 
is  divided  into  two  classes :  the  Busy  Jlees, 
and  Drones,  of  society.  One  makes  the  honey, 
the  other  eats  it.  One  builds  the  houses,  the 
other  lives  in  them.  It  is  a  common  axiom,  that 
one-half  of  mankind  live  by  the  grace  of  the 
other  half.  Thus  one-half  are  Workers,  the  other 
half  Shirkers. 

'"The  Shirker  is  a  genius, — a  WilkinsMicawber, 
"  waiting  for  something  to  turn  up  "  ;  a  Jack  Fal- 
staff,  with  his  ragged  army.  The  Shirker  is  a 
man  of  " elegant  leisure*  keeps  good  society, 
enjoys  life,  has  good  dinners  at  somebody  else's 
expense,  dances  without  paying  the  fiddler.  He 
has  wit  and  tact.  He  is  cute,  knowing,  has  genius, 
especially  in  the  begging  line.  He  is  a  "  gentle- 
man " ;  he  prefers  to  be  a  gentleman  rather  than 
a  "  mud-sill "  of  toil ;  he  gets  along  easier.  M  All 
work  and  no  play,  makes  Jack  a  dull  boy,"  he 
says.  He  can  promenade  in  patent  leather,  kid 
gloves,  glisten  with  paste  diamonds,  and  live  in 
the  atmosphere  of  musk.  His  immaculate  paper 
collars  never  wilt  by  perspiration. 


372  SHADOW y  HAND  ;  OK, 

"He  claims  worthy  examples  for  berig  a 
shirker,  —  Scripture  examples.  He  says,  "Adam 
was  a  Shirker,  he  laid  the  blame  on  Eve."  "The 
woman  thou  gavest  me."  Eve  was  a  Shirker  ;  she 
laid  the  blame  on  "  Satan."  "  The  serpent  beguiled 
me  and  I  did  eat."  Jacob  was  a  Shirker ;  he  fled 
from  the  face  of  Esau.  Cain  was  a  Shirker ;  he 
had  to  shirk  for  a  living.  Lot's  wife  was  a 
Shirker ;  "  she  went  back  on  her  husband."  Jonah 
was  a  Shirker ;  when  ordered  to  preach  to  the 
Ninevites  he  took  a  pleasure-trip  to  Tarsus,  and 
was  swallowed  by  a  whale! 

" '  As  to  Military  Shirkers,  their  motto  is  : 

"He  who  fights  and  runs  away, 
May  live  to  fight  another  day." 

He  sympathizes  with  that  useful,  yet  contemned 
creature,  called  the  Drone.  He  thinks  the  lady- 
bees  do  him  great  injustice.  They  expel  him 
without  cause.  Without  him  there  would  be  no 
honey-gatherers ;  the  sweetness  of  the  world's 
flower-gardens  would  remain  ungathered. 

'"He  admires  that  much-despised  animal  the 
Sloth.  The  Sloth  don't  bother  his  brains  about 
modern  inventions ;  he  is  not  sensational.  He 
is  not  driven  into  hysterics  by  glycerine  explo- 
sions. In  short,  the  Sloth  is  a  "  thorouyh-bred 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  373 

conservative."  His  limbs  move  with  slow  precis- 
ion, his  head  drops  between  his  arms  with  the 
utmost  composure,  and  his  eyes  close  with  utter 
indifference  to  all. 

"Agassiz,  sailing  from  Brazil,  writes:  "We 
have  a  Sloth  on  board,  the  most  fascinating  of  all 
our  pets.  I  am  never  tired  of  watching  him,  he 
looks  so  deliciously  lazy.  His  whole  attitude  is 
lax  and  indifferent ;  he  seems  only  to  ask  for  rest. 
If  you  push  him,  or  give  him  a  smart  rap  to 
rouse  him,  he  lifts  his  head,  drops  his  arms  so 
slowly,  so  deliberately,  that  they  hardly  seem  to 
move.  He  raises  his  eyelids,  and  lets  his  large 
eyes  rest  upon  your  face  for  a  moment,  with  hope- 
less indolence  ;  then  the  lids  fall  softly,  the  head 
drops,  the  arms  fall  heavily  about,  and  he  col 
lapses  again." 

"He  next  spoke  of 'Church  Shirkers.'  They 
believe  that  the  strong  should  bear  the  infirmities 
of  the  weak.  '  I  am  pious,  therefore  the  church 
should  support  me.'  That  man  is  in  the  market ; 
he  goes  to  the  highest  bidder. 

"  One  man  stole  a  coat,  and  came  forward  for 
prayers  with  the  stolen  coat  on  his  back.  Oh, 
how  penitent  he  seemed !  How  he  wept,  and 
sighed,  and  groaned  in  prayer  !  How  the  Church 
.sympathized  with  him  !  They  wept  with  him, 
pitied  him,  prayed  for  him,  felt  distressed  at  his 


374  SHADOWY    HAND  ;    OR, 

agony,  and  strove  to  share  the  burden  of  his  soul. 
They  sang,  exhorted,  encouraged,  and  pointed 
upwards,  but  all  in  vain.  He  renewed  his  efforts  ; 
he  agonized  in  every  joint.  His  whole  frame  was 
tremulous  ;  he  perspired,  tugged,  and  pulled  at  the 
chancel-railing,  as  one  pleading  for  dear  life. 
But  somehow  Mercy  would  not  come  ;  that  stolen 
coat  stuck  to  him  like  the  poisoned  mantle  of 
Hercules.  Poor  man !  He  had  to  restore  the 
coat,  and  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  before  he  could 
find  peace  of  mind. 

"  The  number  and  variety  of  Shirkers  in  the 
name  of  Religion,  coming  under  his  observation 
in  the  missionary  work,  would  fill  volumes.  The 
True  Worker  is  a  f  hero  of  whom  no  Carlyle  has 
ever  written,  no  poet  ever  sung.  Their  deeds  are 
unseen  by  mortal  eye,  and  unrecorded  by  mortal 
hand.  But  God  sees  them.  His  angels  record 
them,  and  an  approving  conscience  brings  the 
reward.' 

"  He  closed  with  the  anecdotes  of  '  Man  Over- 
board,' Man  the  Life-boat,'  Man  in  a  Well,'  and 
'One  Man  More.'" 


UFE-STRUGGLES.  375 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

Olympic  Theatre  Lectures.  —  Their  Success.  —  "Speckled 
Bird  "  for  the  Seventeenth  Time  in  Boston.  —  Notices  of  the 
Post  and  Globe. — Text:  "My  Heritage  is  hnto  me  as  a 
Speckled  Bird ;  the  Birds  round  about  are  against  her." 
Jer.  xii.  9.  —  Clerical  Singularities.  —  The  Puritans.  — 
Forefathers.  —  Then  and  Now.  —  Appeal  for  "  Men. " 

HILE  the  chapel  was  being  raised  and 
repaired,    I    lectured    at    the   Olympic 
Theatre,  realizing  about  $1,200.  "Speck- 
led Bird  "  was  delivered  for  the  Seven- 
teenth time  in  Boston. 

The  Boston  Post  said  :  —  "  Every  seat  was  filled 
last  evening,  to  hear  the  new  lecture  on  *  Speckled 
Bird  :  Pulpit  Eccentricities.'  Mr.  Morgan  began 
by  a  comparison  of  birds  with  meiu  Birds  are 
like  men, — they  hasten  to  the  snare;  they  are 
like  women, —  they  carry  the  news.  '  "A  bird  of 
the  air  shall  carry  it,"  saith  the  Scripture  ;  that  is, 
they  are  tell-tales.  (Birds,  I  mean.) 

' '  Male  birds  do  the  singing,  female  birds 
attend  to  domestic  duties ;  some  are  birds  of  ill- 
omen  (Croakers}  ;  some  are  birds  of  passage 
( Carpet-baggers}  ;  some  feather  well  their  nests 
(Congressmen')  ;  some  are  like  politicians,  —  they 


376  SHADOWY  HAND;   OR, 

are  on  the  fence ;  some  are  speckled  by  nature, 
some  become  speckled  by  circumstances.' 

"Amusing  anecdotes  were  introduced,  illus- 
trating the  working  of  men  under  various  'De- 
lusions,' with  citations  of  numerous  '  Queer  Texts,' 
which  produced  much  good-humor.  His  pathetic 
description*  of  Summerfield,  on  the  steps  of  the 
Capitol,  Whitefield  preaching  his  last  sermon,  suf- 
used  many  an  eye  with  tears. 

'  Text :  — "  My  heritage  is  unto  me  as  a  speck- 
led bird ;  the  birds  round  about  are  against  her." 
— Jer.  xii.  9. 

" f  It  will  do  to  be  singular  in  everything  but 
lleligion.  According  to  the  world's  code  of 
honor,  religious  singularity,  especially  if  it  be  of 
the  more  positive  kind,  cannot  be  tolerated.  To 
have  a  zeal  for  God,  to  call  things  by  their  right 
names,  to  rebuke  sin,  especially  in  high  places,  to 
live  what  one  preaches,  makes  one  too  much  of  a 
speckled  bird  for  this  unfriendly  world.  It  awak- 
ens a  cry  of  fanaticism  and  wildfire ;  then  comes 
persecution.  In  religion,  the  world  demands  that 
your  faith  be  not  obtrusive  ;  your  prayers  be  not 
with  the  window  open  ;  that  your  preaching  med- 
dle with  nothing  of  a  practical  nature,  that  it 
dwells  in  theory  only :  in  idealities,  in  technical- 
ities, in  any  alities  but  realities! 

"'Yet  the  world  honors  singularity,  when  of  its 


LIFE-STRUGGLES .  .377 

own  standard.  The  man  that  has  been  singularly 
industrious  and  frugal,  has  made  many  sacrifices, 
and  practised  much  denial,  and  has  acquired  a 
singularly  large  fortune,  is  honored  ;  yet  half  the 
sacrifices  made  for  God  and  humanity,  would  be 
called  acts  of  fanaticism. 

"'  /Social  Circle. —  What  singularities  are  allowed 
in  the  social  circle  !  The  largest  estates,  the  finest 
carriages,  the  fleetest  horses,  the  select  society, 
select  attendants,  select  hours,  select  meals,  select 
desserts,  select  amusements,  are  all  honored  because 
they  are  parts  of  good  society.  And  among  the 
humble  classes  there  is  the  same  desire  for  superior- 
ity ;  each  must  be  a  little  better  than  his  neighbor. 
The  father  toils  hard  night  and  day  to  educate 
his  children ;  the  mother,  likewise,  seems  to  have 
but  one  object  in  living,  and  that  is  to  have  her 
daughter  singularly  attractive.  And  oh,  that  gay, 
accomplished,  that  handsome  daughter  !  In  fash- 
ionable and  costly  attire,  she  must  have  every- 
thing of  No.  1  order,  and  her  associates  must 
also  be  of  the  same  class.  This  is  all  right, 
because  it  is  not  religious  singularity. 

*  Vicious  Singularities.  —  It  will  do  to  be  sin- 
gular not  only  in  virtuous,  but  in  vicious  conduct. 
See  that  fast  young  man  in  singular  mood,  sin- 
gularly driving,  with  hat  awry,  reeling,  nodding, 
falling  as  he  rides ;  he  is  good-hearted,  but  unfor- 


378     .  SHADOWY  HAND;  on, 

timate, —  his  principal  failing  is,  tnat  he  occasion- 
ally gets  a  "  little  tight."  A  man  may  be  singu- 
larly indecorous  in  the  public  street,  and  in  relig- 
ious meeting,  spend  the  night  in  revelry,  riot,  and 
Bacchanalian  song;  may  ridicule  religion,  make 
mock  prayers,  ainid  shouts  of  fiendish  laughter, 
with  scarcely  a  rebuke. 

"But  to-  be  singularly  in  earnest  in  religion,  to 
keep  meetings  half  as  late  as  those  of  Baal  are 
kept,  to  pray  for  the  power  of  the  Spirit  with 
half  the  fervency  that  they  use  who  fight  against 
it,  to  make  half  the  sacrifices  for  God  that  they 
do  for  the  enemy,  would  awake  a  howl  from  the 
demon  Persecution,  and  a  hideous  cry  against 
Fanaticism ! 

' '  Clerical  Singularities.  —  It  will  do  to  be  sin- 
gular even  in  preaching,  if  the  singularity  be  of 
the  effeminate  and  fanciful  kind.  A  man  may  be 
singularly  precise  in  look,  tone,  and  gesture,  may 
mouth  his  words,  let  them  steal  through  his  white 
teeth,  like  suowflakes,  and  evaporate  as  they  fall, 
never  to  hit,  or  if  they  hit,  never  to  hurt.  But 
for  a  man  to  be  singularly  in  earnest,  and  speak 
in  plain  terms  the  whole  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus, 
that  is  impolite,  uncharitable,  fanatical,  insuffer- 
able! 

* f  Peculiar  People.  —  Nevertheless  God's  people 
must  be  a  peculiar  people.  They  must  be  separ- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  379 

ate  from  the  world,  a  mark  for  the  enemy,  living 
epistles  known  and  read  of  all  men.  "  The  Lord 
hath  chosen  thee  to  be  a  peculiar  people  unto  Him- 
self, above  all  the  nations  that  are  upon  the  earth." 
We  are  commanded  to  come  out  and  be  separate, 
to  touch  not,  taste  not,  handle  not,  the  unclean 
thing.  Where,  then,  are  the  speckled  birds  of 
our  time?  the  peculiar  people?  the  holy  people? 
the  separate  people?  Where  the  spirit  of  the 
Martyrs  ?  Our  fathers  1  where  are  they  ?  Echo 
answers,  Where? 

" '  The  Puritans . — Oh  for  fhe  men  that  lived  in  the 
early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  1  that  planted 
Freedom  in  England,  and  Puritanism  in  America  I 
those  giant  intellects,  that  quartette  of  Johns,  — 
f  John  Cotton,  John  Wilson,  John  Norton,  John 
Davenport;  and  those  two  undoubting  Thomases, 
—  Thomas  Hooker  and  Thomas  Shepard,  the  John 
the  Baptist  that  upbraided  the  Ilerods  of  England 
and  planted  the  Gospel  Standard  in  America.  By 
the  spirit  of  those  men  handed  down  from  father 
to  son,  we  live  the  mighty,  intelligent,  free  people 
of  Boston  and  America  !  If  they  sowed  in  tears, 
we  reap  in  joy.  If  they  were  bruised  for  the 
transgressions  of  many,  then  by  their  stripes  we 
are  healed.  Draw  the  curtain  of  the  Past,  look 
upon  them,  and  you  will  find  beings  whom  we  may 
call  men.  In  bone,  in  muscle,  in  action  and  in 


380  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

thought,  in  conscience  and  in  will,  they  were  men 
every  inch  of  them,  —  God-like  men. 

'  Their  success  was  equal  to  their  devotion. 
They  felt  they  were  treading  the  path  of  empire. 
They  comprehended  their  mission,  and  in  the  fear 
of  God  they  fulfilled  it.  Their  earthly  possessions 
were  limited,  but  their  faith,  patience,  wisdom  and 
courage,  were  sufficient  for  a  hemisphere.  They 
had  mud  walls  and  thatched  roofs  in  which  to 
preach  and  to  live  ;  but  their  doctrines  were  clear 
as  walls  of  crystal,  and  immutable  as  the  hills ; 
their  garbs  were  coarse,  but  their  souls  were 
clothed  with  robes  of  righteousness. 

'"Polite  and  genteel  society  could  not  appre- 
ciate such  men ;  they  were  the  men  for  trying  times 
and  great  events.  With  such  men  the  desert  must 
become  a  place  of  thrift,  and  the  wilderness  blos- 
som as  the  rose.  Before  their  approaching  foot- 
steps, ignorance  and  barbarism  recede  ;  the  Church 
supplants  the  wigwam,  and  Christianity  and  civil- 
ization change  the  heart  of  the  savage.  Under 
their  rule  profanity  and  intemperance  were  almost 
unknown.  Rev.  Nathaniel  Ward  writes  that 
he  staid  twelve  years  in  the  colony,  and  saw 
no  drunkard  and  heard  but  one  oath.  Prophets 
and  priests  of  purity !  Patriarchs  of  liberty  I 
Oh,  rise  from  your  hallowed  graves  !  rise  and 
rebuke  the  profane  souls  that  are  leading  us  to 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  381 

ruin  !  Speak  through  every  relic  that  bears  your 
reverend  names  !  Speak  from  the  grave ,  the  church, 
the  college,  the  school !  Let  every  association 
echo  of  the  Past ;  let  every  edifice  and  hill-side, 
and  every  tree  of  your  planting,  tell  of  the  good 
old  times  of  faith  and  purity.  Speak  !  ye  pulpits 
of  old  Ipswich  and  Plymouth,  and  ye  hallowed 
altars  of  Boston ;  Old  North,  Old  South,  Brattle 
Square  and  Chauncy  Street, — sound  the  notes  of 
your  founders  ;  echo  the  -doctrines  of  the  Fathers  ; 
hold  up  the  Cross ;  trust  not  the  poor  human 
nature ;  show  up  depravity  in  all  its  heights  and 
depths  of  wickedness ;  take  the  Bible,  and  the 
Bible  alone,  to  reform  the  world  ! 

" '  Hark !  the  voices  of  the  Puritans  whisper  m 
the  Sabbath-breeze,  and  echo  in  the  Sabbath-bell ! 
Listen  to  that  bell !  It  "echoes  of  times  when 
Sabbaths  were  holy  days,  when  sanctuaries  were 
sacred,  when  Christians  were  saints,  when  pulpits 
declared  the  plain  truth,  and  men  regarded  it. 
What  spirit  is  that  ringing  there  ?  It  is  the  spirit 
of  a  Cotton,  a  Wilson,  or  a  Mather.  Hear  that 
spirit's  cry,  hear  its  mournful  lamentation  :  w  Chil- 
dren of  the  Puritans  !  Has  it  come  to  this  ?  Are 
our  altars  desecrated  !  Has  the  foul  hoof  of 
Infidelity  dashed  them  to  the  grovelling  earth? 
Are  Vice  and  Crime  running  rampant  and  unre- 
buked  in  this  our  Land  of  Promise  ?  Then  blot 
out  our  names  from  your  calendar ;  smooth  down 


382  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

our  graves ;  let  the  stones  be  removed,  let  the 
wheels  of  trade  roll  over  them,  and  build  the- 
atres and  amusement-halls  thereon  !  Alas,  alas  ! 
that  we  have  toiled  for  naught !  Alas  !  that  the 
patrimony  of  our  example  has  been  wasted  on 
our  children  1  Alas  !  for  you  unfaithful  children  ! 
Unless  ye  come  back  to  the  doctrines  of  the 
Bible,  the  landmarks  of  your  fathers,  then  fare- 
well to  all  your  greatness ;  farewell  to  the  name 
of  Puritan  ! "  And  the  mournful  cadence  of  that 
bell  still  cries  Farewell !  and  the  sympathetic 
breeze  catches  the  sound,  and  echoes  Farewell ! 
And  the  dewy  tear-drops,  weeping  over  the  graves 
of  the  fathers,  glance  with  crystal  hues  in  the 
sunbeam,  striving  to  picture  a  rainbow  of  Hope 
and  Promise,  then  falling  to  the  earth,  and  failing 
to  give  a  sign  of  comfort,  sink  out  of  sight, 
as  if  to  say  Farewell  to  the  name  of  Puritan. 

'"Then  and  N~ow. — In  the  days  of  our  fore- 
fathers the  Sabbath  was  strictly  a  day  of  rest, 
meditation,  and  prayer.  Now  not  one-fourth  of 
the  people  attend  religious  service ;  and  riding, 
visiting,  sailing,  and  assembling  in  groggeries, 
make  up  the  day.  Then  the  children  learned  tho 
Commandments,  and  Catechism,  and  knew  more 
of  tho  Bible  and  its  doctrines  than  half  the  adults 
of  the  prc  sent  age.  Now  tho  Bible  is  laid  away 
for  novels,  and  polite  and  political  literature. 
Then  men  stood  accountable  to  fr*-"3.  Now  the 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  383 

court  is  removed  to  earth,  and  the  account  is 
only  with  our  fellow-men.  Then  thrift  followed 
every  laboring  man,  and  frugality  crowned  hie 
board,  and  every  town  was  flourishing.  Now 
one-fourth  of  the  inhabitants  are  either  idle,  intem- 
perate, or  vicious,  and  many  are  a  public  charge, 
either  as  paupers  or  culprits.  Then  the  man  was 
judged  from  the  heart, — the  inner  man  was  the 
standard  of  judgment.  Now  people  are  judged 
by  what  they  wear  on  their  backs,  and  say  with 
their  lips.  Then  men  that  had  authority  were 
holy  men,  Christian  men.  Now  politics  arc  so 
corrupt  that  Christian  men  are  often  compelled  to 
avoid  the  political  arena.  "What  stern  old  men 
were  the  men  of  those  times  !  How  submissive 
to  conscience,  yet  how  obstinate  to  everything 
else  !  What  a  patrimony  have  they  left  us  ! 

'"Exhortation. — Children  of  the  Puritans! 
will  you  remain  unfaithful  to  that  patrimony? 
Will  you  sit  here  unconcerned,  without  an  effort 
to  rouse  yourselves  from  the  incubus  with  which 
Satan  has  enveloped  you  ?  Arise  !  shake  off  this 
fearful  apathy  !  Arise  !  show  the  world  that  you 
are  MEN  !  Arise  !  be  singular  !  be  separate  !  be  as 
a  SPECKLED  BIRD  !  Let  it  be  seen  you  are  worthy 
the  noble  heritage  your  fathers  left  you  !  Prove 
that  you  are  not  cowards,  that  you  fear  not  the 
world's  censure,  its  contempt,  or  its  persecutions  !"* 


384  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

Second  Lecture.  —  ""World's  Great  Fanatics."  —  Instances  : 
Charles  XII.,  of  Sweden.  —  Charles  V.,  of  Germany. — 
Saladin  the  Great.  —  Seward  the  Brave.  —  Tasso. — Peter 
the  Great  of  Russia. — Rousseau. — Julius  Csesar.  —  Peter 
the  Hermit., — St.  Anthony. — Ignatius  Loyola.  —  Joan  of 
Aro.  —  Third  Lecture.  —  "  Heroism  of  the  Street."  —  God's 
Nobility.  — Value  of  the  Laboring  Man.  — Heroes  of  Low 
Life.  —  Anecdotes. 

HE  second  lecture  in  the  Olympic  Theatre 
was  "  Fanatics  and  Fanaticism." 

The  Boston  Journal  says  :  — "  Eev. 
Henry  Morgan  lectured  last  evening  to  a 
crowdedhouse,  on '  Fanaticism.'  Said  he,  'Fanatics 
are  the  madmen  that  have  driven  the  world  mad. 
Their  brains  are  set  on  fire  by  an  idea.  They  peo- 
ple imagination  with  tangible  beings ;  they  make 
the  heavens  filled  with  angels,  chaiiots  and  horse- 
men, fighting  their  battles.  If  guided  by  reason 
and  judgment,  they  are  a  grand  success.  They 
have  been  the  heroes  of  all  time.  Their  brains' 
picture  the  contest,  arid  the  world  sees  it  through 
them,  and  believes  what  they  see  and  feel.  They 
pray,  and  the  intensity  of  their  fervor  pictures 
the  answer.  They  look,  and  what  others  have 
only  fancied ,  they  see  in  tangible  substance .  They 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  385 

speak,  and  all  the  imagery  of  poet,  painter,  sculp- 
tor, orator,  and  all  the  influences  of  spirit  inspi- 
ration, come  at  their  bidding.  They  plan,  and 
heaven  and  earth  seem  to  combine  to  further  their 
ends.  They  execute,  and  all  mankind  are  but  the 
toys,  and  tools,  and  playthings  in  their  hands,  to 
accomplish  their  designs.  They  fight,  and  -the 
inhabitants  of  the  skies  are  tenfold  more  potent 
than  those  of  earth ;  and  by  confidence,  and  a 
triumphant  air  of  self-assurance,  they  eventually 
conquer.  All  this  comes  from  an  over-heated 
brain,  nothing  more.  Yet  such  a  brain  creates 
kingdoms,  shapes  dynasties,  rules  devotion,  and 
magnetizes  the  inhabitants  of  continents.  The 
histories  of  the  world's  revolutions,  inventions, 
discoveries  and  reforms,  are  but  the  biographies 
of  Fanatics.  Fanaticism  spread  Mohammedanism 
over  half  the  globe.  Fanaticism  murdered  fifty 
millions  of  people  by  religious  persecutions. 
Fanaticism  originated  the  Reformation,  and  planted 
religious  liberty  in  Europe  and  America.  Fanat- 
icism brought  on  our  rebellion.  One  fanatical 
mind  fired  the  torch,  sent  the  shot,  and  a  mighty 
conflagration  sprung  from  the  sparks  of  John 
Brown's  rifle  at  Harper's  Ferry.  Thus  we  see 
that  Fanatics  are  at  once  the  benefactors  and  the 
scourge  of  the  world.'" 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  the  Boston 


386  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

Post :  —  "  Rev.  Henry  Morgan  delivered  his  lec- 
ture on  'The  World's  Great  Fanatics  and  Mad- 
men.' He  instanced  Charles  XII.,  of  Sweden, 
defending  himself  with  300  men  against  20,000 
Turks;  Charles* V.,  of  Germany,  abdicating  his 
throne  in  the  prime  of  life,  ordering  his  coffin,  and 
rehearsing  his  own  funeral.  '  Sound  the  requiem  ! 
Say  your  masses !  Let  the  procession  move  ! 
Proclaim  that  Charles  V.,  of  Germany  and  Spain, 
is  no  more  ! ' 

"Saladin  the  Great  —  ordering  his  herald  to 
fasten  his  shroud  upon  a  lance  —  'Go  !  proclaim 
this  is  all  that  remains  to  Saladin  the  Great ! " 
Seward  the  Brave,  Earl  of  Northumberland,  calling 
for  his  armor  at  the  moment  of  death,  then  sprang 
from  his  bed,  stood  upon  his  feet  till  his  heart 
ceased  to  beat,  and  fell  like  a  marble  pillar,  life- 
less, to  the  floor ;  Tasso,  the  poet,  Peter  the 
Great,  of  Russia,  Rousseau,  and  even  Julius  Caesar, 
were  subjects  of  Fanaticism.  Constantino,  while 
beholding  the  cross  let  down  from  heaven,  exclaim- 
ing, '  In  hoc  signo  vinces, — by  this  sign  conquer  !' 
Peter  the  Hermit,  kindling  the  spirit  of  the  Cru- 
sades with  frenzied  zeal,  rousing  all  Europe  to 
rescue  the  tomb  of  the  Saviour ;  St.  Anthony, 
drawing  multitudes  after  him  to  the  desert,  and 
establishing  monastic  institutions ;  Ignatius  Loy- 
ola, suffering  persecution  and  imprisonment  to 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  387 

establish  the  order  of  the  Jesuits ;  Joan  of  Arc, 
feeling  herself  commissioned  to  deliver  France, 
offering  to  raise  the  siege  of  Orleans,  the  soul  of 
an  unlettered  girl  of  eighteen  stirring  the  hearts 
of  kings  and  armies,  leading  the  hosts  of  FrMice 
to  victory,  finally  betrayed,  taken  captive,  tried 
for  Sorcery,  condemned,  and  burnt  alive.  She 
died  more  heroically  than  she  lived.  She  lived  a 
saint,  died  a  martyr.  These  are  the  Fanatics  that 
fired  the  world,  and  gave  it  history." 

Third  Lecture.  "Heroism  of  the  Street. — 
Text :  'Wisdom  crieth  out :  She  uttereth  her  voice 
in  the  streets.'  —  Prov.  i.  20. 

'Wisdom,'  says  Carlyle,  'means  valor  and  all 
nobleness.'  Such  valor  is  found  in  the  streets. 
Heroes  are  not  all  confined  to  the  battle-field, 
neither  are  the  .noblest  spirits  always  found  in  high 
life.  The  street  has  its  heroes,  and  the  poor  have 
their  nobility,  —  not  hereditary  nobility,  but  God's 
nobility.  Any  man  that  stands  boldly  for  truth, 
for  God  and  humanity,  a  man  that  conquers  his 
selfishness,  his  passions  and  lusts,  is  a  hero. 
Any  man  that  receives  an  insult  with  meekness  is 
a  hero.  'He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is  better  than 
the  mighty,  and  he  that  ruleth  his  spirit  than  he 
that  taketh  a  city.'  —  Prov.  xxxii.  1(5. 

"  Any  man  that  will  not  violate  his  conscien- 
tious scruples  for  gain  is  a  hero.  He  that  is 


388  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

steeped  in  poverty,  yet  will  not  break  the  Sabbath 
though  corporations  demand  it,  is  a  hero.  I  would 
not  do  manual  labor,  I  would  not  drive  a  horse- 
car  on  the  Sabbatji,  to  save  any  corporation  in 
Christendom  from  bankruptcy.  Corporations  that 
have  no  souls  may  force  men  into  their  employ 
that  have  no  souls.  Men  that  will  break  tho 
Sabbath  will  not  hesitate  to  steal.  Such  em- 
ployes make  dishonest  conductors,  thus  cor- 
porations suffer.  Breaking  the  Sabbath  don't 
pay.  All  hail  to  the  man  that  stands  for  his  rights 
and  God's  truth  I  Be  he  high  or  low,  rich  or  poor, 
if  he  stands  like  a  rock  for  God's  truth,  he  is  one 
of  God's  heroes. 

'  Value  of  the  Laboring  Man,  or  Man  of  the 
/Street. — Who  furnishes  us  our  bread  and  our 
raiment?  Who  builds  our  dwellings,  our  stores, 
our  ships,  our  navies?  Who  gives  the  strength  to 
government  which  crushes  mighty  rebellions? 
Who  builds  the  engine,  lays  the  track,  constructs 
the  printing-press,  stretches  the  telegraph,  tunnels 
the  mountains,  and  paves  the  way  for  commerce  ! 
He  is  the  laboring  man,  the  man  of  out-door  toil, 
the  bone  and  sinew  of  the  nation,  the  soul  of 
wealth  ;  the  whole  interests  of  history  rest  in  him  ; 
he  is  the  material  out  of  which  is  made  the  soldier, 
the  patriot,  the  reformer  and  the  saint. 

"  'A  Ghristian  the  Highest  Type  of  Heroism. — 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  389 

The  mau  that  is  consecrated  to  God  is  a  hero ; 
he  caimot  be  a  coward,  he  cannot  do  wrong.  The 
divinity  that  beats  in  his  heart  spurns  temptation, 
bribery,  selfishness,  low  views  of  business,  or 
deceit ;  his  sparks  arc  struck  from  the  flint  of  cour- 
age ;  he  dares  to  do  and  die  for  the  right.  No 
fear  degrades  him,  no  interest  deludes  him,  no 
sloth  enfeebles  him,  and  no  passions  overcome  him. 
The  spirit  by  which  he  conquers  is  Love.  Love 
gives  him  cheer,  love  nerves  his  heart,  and  love 
brings  the  victory. 

:t '  Heroes  of  Low  Life.  — There  are  heroes  in  the 
streets  of  whom  no  Carlyle  has  ever  written,  no 
poet  has  ever  sung,  and  no  "  storied  urn  or  ani- 
mated bust"  has  ever  told.  Their  deeds  are  unseen 
by  mortal  eye,  and  unrecorded  by  mortal  hand. 
But  God  sees  them,  His  angels  record  them,  and 
an  approving  conscience  brings  the  reward. 
"Where  there  is  one  hero  trumpeted  to  fame  in  high 
life  there  are  a  thousand  heroes  in  low  life  bat- 
tling against  poverty,  temptation,  and  crime, 
unheralded  and  unsung.  It  is  easy  to  be  morally 
good  when  all  your  surroundings  encourage  it, 
with  no  uncontrollable  circumstances  to  prevent  it. 
But  for  a  man  crushed  to  the  very  earth,  and 
blasted  by  unavoidable  calamities,  for  him  to 
gather  strength  by  opposition,  to  shake  off  the 
pestiferous  load  of  a  false  education  as  the  branches 


390  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

of  the  willow  shake  off  the  winter's  snow — that 
man  is  a  veritable  hero.  He  is  a  hero  greater  than 
Alexander,  or  Napoleon,  or  Bacon. 

" '  Sir  Francis  Bacon  mastered  Philosophy,  became 
high  priest  of  Nature's  mysteries,  pioneer  in 
Ethical  Science.  He  descanted  on  morals  with  a 
sublimity  that  rendered  his  name  immortal ;  yet 
that  same  Lord  Bacon,  with  all  his  wisdom,  and 
all  the  favoritism  of  his  sovereign  and  of  the 
court,  could  not  keep  his  own  hands  from  bribes, 
or  save  himself  from  imprisonment  in  the  Tower 
of  London. 

'  '"Napoleon  stamped  his  foot,  and  continental 
Europe  felt  the  shock ;  he  commanded  armies, 
ruled  empires,  distributed  thrones  like  playthings, 
yet  he  could  not  govern  his  own  wanton  passions, 
and  the  infamy  of  his  unbridled  lusts  is  as  revolt- 
ing to  the  moral  sense  as  the  splendors  of  his  arms 
are  transcendent. 

:t '  Alexander  conquered  his  way  to  universal 
monarchy,  became  supreme  among  mortals,  and 
swayed  the  sceptre  of  the  world's  empire ;  yet 
he  could  not  govern  his  own  appetite,  and  died 
as  the  fool  dieth,  in  an  hour  of  debauchery,  and 
in  a  fit  of  drunkenness. 

:?  c  Lord  Chesterfield  and  Byron  mingled  genius 
with  titles,  blazed  like  meteors  through  the  sky, 
blasting  the  atmosphere  of  religious  purity  and 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  391 

drawing  a  third  part  of  the  stars  of  heaven  with 
them.  These  men  had  no  motives  for  wickedness 
but  the  love  of  wickedness  for  its  own  sake ;  no 
distress  or  want  nerved  them  on ;  no  cruel  parents 
forced  them  out  in  early  life  to  steal.  But  for  a 
boy  crushed  by  poverty,  surrounded  by  criminals, 
where  Vice  itself  is  popular,  for  him  to  stand  like 
a  rock  against  the  sea,  and  stem  the  tide  of  vice, 
and  come  up  out  of  the  sloughs  of  moral  degrada- 
tion with  garments  unspotted,  and  instead  of 
demoralizing  his  race  to  elevate  them,  and 
assimilate  them  to  the  image  of  their  God, — that 
boy  is  more  than  a  hero  ;  he  is  a  saint,  — a  saint  of 
the  living  God!  He  demands  our  admiration 
and  protection.' 

"Mr.  Morgan  related  instances  of  cowardice 
in  high  life,  and  heroism  in  low  life  ;  some  from 
his  own  observation,  of  men  who  had  applied  to 
him  for  help,  but  had  not  the  courage  to  stand  for 
truth  and  honesty.  One  was  from  Harvard  Col- 
lege, who  had  squandered  thousands,  and  fallen 
to  the  lowest  stages  of  dissipation.  One  was  now 
in  Cambridge  Jail,  whose  letter  of  penitence  the 
speaker  held  in  his  hand.  He  related  instances 
of  heroism  from  the  life  of '  Ned  Nevins,  the  News- 
Boy,'  whose  motto  was,  'If  I  do  no  wrong,  some- 
thin'  good  will  come  to  me,' — a  motto  which 
carried  him  through  every  trial  and  temptation. 


392  SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

"'A  word  to  the  Christian  hero:  In  the  array 
there  is  a  token,  a  precious  token ;  — it  is  a  bit  of 
"bunting,  small  and  insignificant  of  itself,  not 
worth,  perhaps,  a  dollar,  but  it  represents  a 
mighty  principle.  Thirty-six  stars  shine  from  its 
folds,  and  from  these  stars  shine  our  country's 
glory  and  her  hope.  Let  that  flag  be  assailed, 
and  trailed  in  the  dust,  and  thousands  will  rush 
even  to  the  jaws  of  death  for  its  rescue. 

"  'Here  stands  the  banner  of  the  Cross,  assailed 
by  infidelity,  intemperance,  sensuality  and  crime  I 
Who  will  prove  recreant?  Who  is  the  shirk  — 
the  coward  —  that  skulks  from  its  defence? 
Rouse,  ye  heroes  of  Christianity  !  Charge  for  God 
and  His  truth  1  Christ  shall  give  you  victory.' " 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  393 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

The  Scott  Insanity  Case.  —  My  Efforts  in  Mrs.  Scott's  Behalf. 
—  Plea  for  One  Week's  Trial.  —Failure.  —  "  Walk  !  walk  1 
walk  ! " — From  the  Hartford  Post.  —  Sane  or  Insane.  — De- 
cision of  Judge  White.  —  Mrs.  Scott's  Labors  for  a  Liveli- 
hood. —  Prolonged  Search  for  her  Child.  — Husband  leaves 
Massachusetts  for  Connecticut.  — Wife  obliged  to  follow. — 
Incarceration  at  Middletown.  —  Hartford  Courant.  —  Report 
of  Citizens'  Committee. — Letters  from  Governor  Claflin, 
Oliver  Warner,  and  Others.  —  Newton  Journal.  —  Conclu- 
sion.—  Release  amon£  Friends  might  help,  could  not  harm 
her. 

|T  Hartford  I  was  advertised  to  speak  upoii 
my  connection  with  the  Scott  Insanit3r 
Case.  The  chief  man  of  the  Board  of 
Charities,  author  of  the  bill  creating  that 
Board,  lived  in  Hartford.  I  said,  "  Give  the  poor 
woman  one  week's  trial  among  her  friends ;  let 
her  have  her  freedom  ;  let  her  see  her  only  child, 
the  idol  of  her  heart,  and  I'll  be  under  $10,000 
bonds  that  she  will  be  no  expense  to  the  State 
of  Connecticut." 

I  made  every  effort,  ut  in  vain.  I  knew  Mr. 
Scott  would  not  allow  her  out,  for  his  friends  at 
Waterbury  told  me  it  had  cost  him  $20,000  to  get 
her  there.  This  Board  was  her  last,  her  only 
hope ;  it  alone  could  save  her.  "  She  is  used  to 


394  SHADOWY  HAND;   on, 

work,"  I  said  ;  "  give  her  work,  aiid  a  chance  to  use 
her  hands  and  breathe  the  free  air,  and  she  will 
recover  immediately." 

At  Somerviile  Asylum  she  was  given  up  to  die, 
after  four  and  a  half  years'  incarceration,  without 
seeing  husband  or  child.  When  released,  instead 
of  dying,  as  was  anticipated,  she  recovered  in  a 
few  weeks,  and  was  enabled  to  perform  her  own 
house-work.  The  same' might  again  be  the  effect 
of  her  release ;  health  and  spirits  might  return. 
She  was  led  to  her  present  state,  first,  by  being 
robbed  of  her  property  and  her  child,  and  by  over- 
work, twice  fainting  and  falling  in  a  tailor's  shop 
at  Boston ;  then,  from  a  sick-bed,  being  compelled 
to  accept  the  offer  of  her  husband  to  board  her  in 
Connecticut.  She  arrived  at  Hartford,  injured 
herself  on  leaving  the  cars,  thought  how  once  she 
barely  escaped  from  being  incarcerated  in  Hartford 
Asylum,  waited  two  hours  at  the  depot  for  the 
Waterbury  train,  got  off  four  miles  from  Water- 
bury,  to  find  her  sister;  rain  came  on,  no  depot 
there,  — no  carriage.  Sick  and  distracted,  she  at 
last  found  her  sister,  Mrs.  Hobart  Smith,  two  miles 
from  the  depot,  threw  her  arms  around  her  neck, 
and  said,  "  Sister  !  oh,  sister  !  I  have  come  home 
to  die  !  I  never  shall  see  my  Fannie  again." 

"They  tell  us  it  would  injure  the  daughter's  feel- 
ings to  see  the  mother.  Good  heavens  !  Hurt 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  395 

the  daughter's  feelings  ?  Shame  on  that  daughter, 
now  a  young  woman  !  Shame  on  those  who  have 
taught  her  to  fear  her  mother,  when  one  look  would 
be  a  heaven  to  her  soul !  That  one  look  she  had 
sought  for  years.  She  would  give  the  earnings  of 
twenty  years  for  one  single  glance.  But  not  in  an 
insane  asylum  would  she  wish  to  see  her  child. 
When  I  saw  her  at  Middletown  Asylum,  she  had 
not  spoken  a  sentence  for  six  months.  I  found 
her  walking  her  room,  her  hand  under  her  chin, 
recognizing  nobody,  not  even  myself.  I  said, 
'Mrs.  Scott,  you  know" me;  I  have  come  from 
Boston,  a  longdistance ;  I  must  be  heard.  I  have 
good" news  to  tell  you.  Your  husband  will  give 
you  a  home,  and  you  shall  yet  see  your  child.' 

"  She  immediately  brightened  up,  came  out  of  her 
melancholy  state,  and  responded,  with  the  vigor 
of  other  days,  —  *Ah,  sir!  you  don't  know  Charles 
JScottf  There  is  no  mercy  in  him.' 

"She  told  me  the  story  of  her  sorrows,  and  that 
she  would  try  to  rally  if  there  was  any  hope  for 
her  release ;  I  encouraged  her  as  best  I  could. 
The  doctor,  who  had  before  said  her  case  was 
hopeless,  being  surprised  at  the  sudden  change  for 
the  better,  now  altered  his  mind,  promised  a  car- 
riage, and  said  she  would  be  out  on  trial  in  a  week 
or  two,  but  that  trial  never  came.  I  called  again, 
but  was  refused  admission  to  her  ward.  Mr. 


396  SHADOWY    HAND  ;    OE, 

Scott's  $5  a  week  entitled  him  to  have  and  to  hold 
her  as  the  rightful  property  of  her  liege  lord. 

*Dr.  I.  W.  Hazleton,  who  was  her  physician  in 
the  asylum  at  Somerville,  and  the  physician  who 
attended  her  in  her  last  sickness  before  she  went 
to  Connecticut,  writes  to  the  Newton  Journal, 
May  9th,  1874  :  '  I  affirm  that,  if  all  the  testimony 
I  obtained  to  satisfy  my  own  mind  in  regard  to 
her  sanity  had  been  told  in  court,  you  could  not 
find  an  intelligent  jury  in  the  entire  country  that 
would  have  found  Mrs.  Scott  insane.  Much  was 
not  told,  but  enough  was  told  to  make  Judge 
White  declare  her  sane.' 

"I  now,  with  much  anxiety  and  reluctance,  bade 
her  a  long  adieu.  I  had  been  at  great  expense  of 
time,  health,  money  and  reputation  in  her  behalf. 
Mrs.  Scott  offered  to  refund  me  out  of  her  hard  earn- 
ings, but  I  had  not  the  heart  to  receive  a  single  cent. 
I  have  done  what  I  could  for  the  afflicted  woman. 
She  was  perfectly  sane  at  the  time  she  was  com- 
mitted to  my  pastoral  charge  ;  pronounced  so  by 
the  physicians  and  all  her  friends.  I  now  leave 
her  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  asylum.  Shut 
out  from  the  society  of  her  Boston  friends,  who 
offered  to  give  her  a  home  for  life,  —  no  loving 
look,  no  tender  word  of  sympathy,  — day  by  day 
surrounded  by  repulsive  associates, — compelled 
to  listen  to  the  incoherent  babblings  of  minds 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  397 

whirling  in  delirium,  and,  during  the  long  watches 
of  the  night,  to  shudder  at  the  shrieks  of  confirmed 
maniacs !  What  treatment  for  one  who  could 
be  cured  in  a  week  !  And  this  without  a  crime, 
or  suspicion  of  a  crime ;  whose  only  fault  was 
to  love  her  child  too  well.  I  charge  the  State  of 
Connecticut  with  complicity  in  the  crime !  I 
charge  the  State  Board  of  Charities  of  being 
derelict  in  duty  !  I  charge  the  physicians  of  that 
asylum  with  want  of  firmness  in  protecting  the 
weak ! 

"Farewell,  unhappy  one  !  My  heart  bleeds  as 
I  leave  thee !  Walk !  walk !  walk !  This  is 
your-  only  consolation.  Walk  !  walk  !  pace  thy 
dreary  room  from  morn  till  night ;  no  kind 
recognition,  no  child,  no  friend,  no  fond  look  of 
affection  to  cheer  thy  lonely  hours !  Walk, 
with  hand  under  chin,  —  walk,  with  eyes  on  the 
floor  !  Walk  until  the  mind  whirls  and  turns, 
and  wears  itself  away !  Walk  from  bed  to 
trunk,  and  trunk  to  bench,  until  thou  treadest  out 
the  days  and  years  of  thy  heart-rending  doom ! 
Again,  farewell!  not  forgotten,  but  forbidden, — 
forbidden  even  to  see  your  pastor.  Like  Poe's 
'  Haven,'  thou  may'st  mutter  from  the  shadows  on 
the  wall,  shadows  of  thy  despair,  —  '  Never  more  ! 
never  more ! '  Shadows  written  by  mortal  hand 
over  thy  bolted  door,  shadows  never  to  be  erased, 


398  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

legible  to  all  eyes,  for  all  time.  — '  Never  more  ! 
never  more!'  Dante's  expression,  'All  hope 
abandon,  ye  who  enter  here1! '  seems  written  over 
thy  cell.  Thy  work  is  done.  Thy  labors  in  the 
Sewing  Circle  and  in  the  Fair,  for  the  destitute 
and  needy  —  labors  that  have  won  thee  honor, 
gratitude,  and  blessings  from  them  who  were 
ready  to  perish  —  are  at  an  end.  Alas  !  thou  art 
poorer  than  they,  with  none  to  do  thee  reverence. 
Again  adieu  !  A  long  farewell !  " 

Hartford  Post,  Feb.  25th,  1874:  — "The  rep- 
resentative of  the  Evening  Post  at  Middletown  has 
already  given  a  short  account  of  the  statement  made 
there  by  the  Rev.  Henry  Morgan,  of  the  case  of 
Mrs.  Theodosia  Scott,  who,  it  is  alleged,  is  impris- 
oned in  the  Hospital  for  the  Insane  by  her  husband, 
Charles  Scott,  now  a  resident  of  New  Haven. 
The  following  is  the  substance  of  Mr.  Morgan's 
story  : 

:  c  When  forty  years  old  she  had  had  a  female 
child,  Jier  first  and  only  one.  She  had  at  the  time, 
from  the  effects  of  the  birth,  a  severe  nervous 
affection,  or  general  prostration,  and,  at  her  hus- 
band's suggestion,  she  went  willingly  to  a  hos- 
pital in  Soinerville,  Mass.,  where  she  remained 
one  and  a  half  years,  never  during  that  long  time 
seeing  or  hearing  from  her  husband  or  child.  One 
day,  while  walking  in  the  garden  of  the  institution, 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  399 

she  &aw  her  husband,  rushed  up  to  him,  put  her 
arms  about  .his  neck,  and,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
asked  him  why  he  could  leave  her  so  long  without 
her  seeing  him  or  her  babe.  She  begged  him  to 
take  her  home,  which  he  finally  did.  But  the 
home  she  left  was  not  the  home  she  found.  There 
was  another  there,  —  a  sister  of  the  husband. 
Remonstrances  followed,  but  they  were  of  no  avail. 
One  day  she  was  taken,  just  as  she  was,  and  car- 
ried again  to  the  Somerville  hospital,  where  she  was 
kept  for  four  years  and  a  half,  as  before,  without 
seeing  her  husband  or  child.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  the  managers  of  the  hospital  pronounced  her 
incurably  ill,  and  raised  the  charges,  whereupon 
Scott  again  took  her  home,  but  instead  of  dying 
she  soon  recovered,  and  was  able  to  do  the  house- 
work for  nine  months.  In  the  meantime  he  had 
had  a  guardian  put  over  her  to  enable  him  to  sign 
away  her  right  of  dower,  which  he  did. 

' '  After  she  returned  home  from  the  hospital 
at  Somerville,  she  was  awakened  suddenly  one 
night,  and  found  a  man's  hand  holding  a  bottle  of 
something  to  her  mouth  for  her  to. inhale.  She 
clashed  it  away  from  her  lips,  jumped  from  the 
bed,  and  said,  "You  devil !  what  are  you  about?" 
The  bottle  held  chloroform,  as  she  supposed. 

"At  the  end  of  nine  months,  Scott  made 
arrangements  for  incarcerating  her  again.  Ilav- 


400  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

ing  found  two  physicians  to  sign  a  certificate  be- 
fore they  had  seen  her,  he  suddenly  introduced 
them  to  the  house,  with  officers,  and,  by  plying 
her  with  aggravating  questions,  elicited  replies 
which  induced  the  physicians  to  pronounce  her  in- 
sane, and  she  was  again  carried  off  to  the  mad- 
house. The  neighbors  saw  the  transaction,  and 
compelled  Scott  to  sign  an  order  for  her  release 
within  seven  days;  all  acquainted  with  the  cir- 
cumstances declaring  her  to  be  a  sane  woman. 

"  For  two  years  she  resided  in  Boston,  under 
guidance,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  her  friends 
made  a  movement  for  her  release  from  guardianship, 
and  for  liberty  to  see  her  child.  The  Probafe 
Court  of  Middlesex  County  ordered  a  committee  of 
physicians  to  examine  her,  and  she  was  pronounced 
sane,  and  the  guardian  discharged. 

* '  In  the  meantime  her  husband  had  put  all  his 
property  out  of  his  hands,  and,  through  other  par- 
ties, proposed  to  pay  her  board  somewhere  in  an 
out-of-the-way  place  near  Waterbury,  Connecti- 
cut. Rather  than  go  there  to  live  she  got  employ- 
ment in  -a  tailor's  shop  in  Boston,  where  she  earned 
nearly  five  hundred  dollars  a  year,,  until  she  was 
then  taken  sick.  Still  she  tried  to  work  on,  but 
having  fainted  away  several  times  at  her  work,  she 
gave  it  up,  and  accepted  the  offer  made  by  agents 
of  her  husband  of  a  home  in  this  State.  She  was 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  401 

not  in  this  State  six  weeks  before  she  was  found  in 
the  Hospital  for  the  Insane  at  Middletown.  She 
had  become  so  much  depressed  by  her  troubles, 
that  her  friends  consented  to  her  being  taken 
there. 

"  '  She  used  to  go  from  State  to  State  to  find  her 
little  daughter  Fannie,  whom  she  had  not  seen 
since  she  was  placed  in  the  hospital  from  Newton- 
ville.  She  went  to  Hartford,  and  visited  all  the 
schools  there  at  one  time.  Finally  she  found 
Fannie  was  at  Miss  Edwards's  private  school  in  New 
Haven ;  went  there  to  see  her ;  was  asked  who 
she  was,  and  replied,  "I  am  her  mother."  The 
teacher  said  she  had  been  instructed  not  to  let  the 
child  see  her.  She  then  went  to  a  grocery-store 
near  by,  and  waited  until  the  school  was  closed, 
and  as  the  last  little  girl  went  by  the  mother  asked 
her  where  Fannie  Scott  was,  and  was  told  that  the 
teacher  had  sent  her  home  another  way.  She  gave 
the  girl  a  letter  to  carry  to  her,  and  she  promised 
faithfully  to  deliver  it  to  Fannie,  but  she  has  never 
received  any  reply  to  it. 

" '  On  one  occasion  she  learned  that  Scott  was  at 
the  Revere  House,  Boston,  recorded  "Scott  and 
family,"  and  made  a  strenuous  effort  to  see  her 
child.  For  an  hour  she  searched  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  hotel,  and  waited  for  three  hours  at  the 
Worcester  Depot,  but  without  avail. 
26 


402  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

' '  She  has  given  up  all  hope  of  ever  seeing  her 
daughter  again,  and  is  only  waiting  for  a  release 
from  all  her  troubles  in  this  world  by  death. 
Since  she  has  been  here  she  has  been  very  melan- 
choly, converses  with  no  one,  and  answers  all 
questions  put  to  her  only  by  monosyllables.' 

"Rev.  Mr.  Morgan,  of  whose  church  she  was 
a  consistent  member  for  three  years,  and  who  takes 
a  deep  interest  in  her,  found  out,  in  some  way,  that 
she  was  in  the  hospital  in  this  city,  and  has  on  two 
previous  occasions  visited  her.  Monday  he  called 
again,  and  was  informed  by  Dr.  Hallock  that  it  was 
not  best  for  him  to  see  her;  that  he  could  do  her  no 
good  by  seeing  her.  The  true  cause  of  the  refusal, 
however,  was  the  fact  of  the  arrival  here,  the  same 
day,  of  Miss  Esther  Scott,  of  New  Haven,  who 
desired  Dr.  Hallock  not  to  let  Mr.  Morgan  see 
Mrs.  Theodosia  Scott,  giving  as  a  reason  that  he 
was  a  mischief-maker. 

"  Mr.  Morgan  says  that  he  saw  Mrs.  Scott's  hus- 
band in  New  Haven ;  had  a  long  conversation  with 
him.  He  asked  Scott  if  he  would  consent  to  give 
his  wife  a  home  —  the  property  he  had  advertised 
to  allow  her — and  permit  her  to  see  her  child,  assur- 
ing him  that  this  was  all  that  was  necessary  for 
*.  her  immediate  recovery.  Scott  refused  to  do  any- 
thing of  the  so'rt,  saying  he  would  attend  to  his 
own  business. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  403 

*  During  the  interview,  the  subject  of  the  attempt 
to  chloroform  his  wife  was  brought  up,  when. Mr. 
Scott  admitted  the  facts,  but  said  it  was  hartshorn 
that  he  was  applying,  she  having  been  very  fond 
of  it  when  she  was  young.  He  says  he  told  Mr. 
Scott  that  he  should  call  the  attention  of  the  public 
to  the  matter  wherever  he  lectured,  and  did  as 
above  statedMonday  evening,  at  McDonoughHall. 
Mr.  Morgan  says  if  she  was  taken  fr^om  the  hos- 
pital, treated  kindly  and  tenderly,  she  would  be  as 
well  as  any  other  person  in  a  short  time.  Such  is, 
in  brief,  the  substance  of  Mr.  Morgan's  statement. 
The  whole  would  make  several  columns  of  matter. 
It  is  a  matter  that  should  have  the  closest  scru- 
tiny ;  an  investigation  of  the  condition  of  Mrs. 
Scott  should'  be  at  once  made.  It  ought  to  be 
stated  that  she  is  kindly  cared  for  at  the  hospital. 
That  the  sight  of  her  daughter  should  be  denied 
her,  is  hardly  to  be  believed.  Mrs.  Scott  is  now 
55  years  old,  and  has  not.  seen  her  daughter  for 
several  years.  Such  treatment  is  enough  to  drive 
stronger  minds  than  Mrs.  Scott's  into  insanity." 

Hartford  Daily  Courant. —  Report  of  the  Cit- 
izens' Committee,  May  20th,  1874:  "Having 
been  appointed  a  committee  to  investigate  the  case 
of  Mrs.  Theodosia  Scott,  now  in  the  Middletown 
Hospital,  we  undertook  the  duties  (3f  such  commit- 
tee -3  her  friends  and  physicians,  and  even  Mr.  Mor- 


404  SHADOWY  IIAXD;  OR, 

gan  himself,  who  had  called  attention  to  the  case, 
all  claimed  her  to  be  insane  now,  whatever  may 
have  been  her  condition  heretofore,  or  whatever 
may  have  been  the  causes  that  led  to  insanity,  the 
only  difference  in  opinion  being  that  Mr.  Mor- 
gan alleged  foul  treatment  as  the  cause  of  the 
insanity,  and  claimed  that  if  she  were  released 
from  confinement  awhile,  and  surrounded  by  sym- 
pathetic influences,  she  would  completely  recover. 
' "  Our  inquiries  have  elicited  testimony  from 
some  of  the  first  citizens  of  Boston,  among  them 
Mr.  Charles  W.  Slack,  of  the  Commonwealth,  tho 
Rev.  James  Freeman  Clarke,  and  Mr.  II.  B.  Black- 
welt,  that  Mr.  Morgan  is  an  honect,  truthful  man, 
however  eccentric  he  may  be.  Having  assurance 
from  such  good  authority  of  Mr.  Morgan's  sin- 
cerity, we  made  some  inquiries  about  Mrs.  Scott. 

"A  letter  from  ex-Governor  Claflin,  of  Massa- 
chusetts, to  one  of  our  committee,  has  the  follow- 
ing statements  in  regard  to  this  case  :  — 

"  'From  inquiries,  I  fear  there  is  too  much  truth 
iu  Mr.  Morgan's  statements.  Mrs.  Scott  has  the 
sympathy  of  her  neighbors,  who  believe  her  to  be 
as  sane  as  most  people.  She  is  melancholy,  as 
would  be  natural  for  women  who  had  husbands 
able  to  support  them,  and  were  obliged  to  labor 
in  a  shop  for  their  bread,  which  she  did  for  nearly 
a  year.  She  finally  loll  down  at  her  work,  injur- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  405 

ing  herself  so  much  that  she  was  obliged  to  givo 
up  work.  She  was  taken  into  the  family  of  a 
friend,  where  she  remained  three  months,  exhibit- 
ing no  sign  of  insanity  except  settled  melancholy. 
The  opinion  is  that  she  may  now  be  a  mono- 
maniac on  account  of  her  hard  treatment  by  Scott. 
The  neighbors  give  no  cause  for  his  course  except 
avarice.  It  is  quite  certain  that  he  felt  obliged  to 
leave  his  village,  fearing  personal  violence  from 
the  citizens,  who,  although  usually  very  quiet, 
orderly,  and  law-abiding,  threatened  pretty  loudly 
to  be  a  law  unto  themselves  if  the  woman  suffered 
further  abuse  from  her  husband.  They  intended, 
I  presume,  to  appeal  to  the  Courts,  but  Scott 
thought  his  precious  body  was  in  danger,  and 
immediately  left.  It  is  almost  impossible  in  these 
cases  to  ascertain  the  real  truth,  especially  when, 
as  in  the  present;  the  family  lived  much  by  them- 
selves ;  but  certainly  those  having  the  best  oppor- 
tunity of  judging,  believe  Mrs.  Scott  grossly 
wronged  by  her  husband,  who  had  ample  means 
for  her  comfortable  and  even  luxurious  support, 
saying  nothing  of  the  promised  love  and  respect 
he  gave  her  on  her  marriage.' 

"The  lion.  Oliver  Warner,  Secretary  of  State 
of  Massachusetts,  also  sends  us  a  letter,  which  ho 
doesn't  wish  to  have  published,  to  our  great  regret, 
aj  it  gives  some  of  his  personal  dealings  with  Mr. 


406  SHADOWY  HAND;   OR, 

Scott  in  business  transactions,  which  reveal  him 
to  be  anything  but  a  good,  honest  man.  As  to  Mrs. 
Scott,  he  thinks  she  was  insane  when  sent  to  the 
Somerville  Asylum,  but  that  when  she  was  released 
from  there,  she  might,  if  she  had  had  'proper  and 
decent  treatment,'  have  been  kept  in  a  compara- 
tively comfortable  condition. 

"  Mr.  Henry  B.  Blackwell  says  the  people  in 
Newton  —  the  village  near  Boston  where  the 
Scotts  resided  at  one  time  —  assure  him  that f  Mrs. 
Scott  has  been  cruelly  and  inhumanly  treated  by 
her  husband  for  many  years,  and  that  Mr.  Mor- 
gan has  good  ground  for  his  statements.' 

"A  recent  number  of  the  Newton  Journal  — 
March  28th- — contains  a  letter  from  a  Boston  cor- 
respondent. This  writer  states  that  Mr.  Scott's 
greatest  trial  has  been  that  he  could  not  have  his 
wife  in  constant  confinement  for  many  years  past. 
His  wife's  trials,  or  a  few  of  them,  have  been  these  : 
when  she  decided  to  remain  in  Boston  in  1869,  he 
would  agree  to  give  her  only  a  paltry  yearly  sum, 
and  was  made  to  do  that  only  through  fear  of 
losing  his  title  to  the  real  estate  he  had  sold 
without  allowing  her  any  right  of  dower.  One- 
fifth  of  the  paltry  sum  he  allowed  her  she  had  to 
pay  to  a  guardian,  whom  she  neither  wanted  or 
needed.  The  rest  she  determined  to  use  to  free 
herself.  Two  years  ago  she  applied  to  the  Courts 


LIFE  -STRUGGLES .  407 

of  Massachusetts  to  have  her  guardianship 
removed.  This  was  done,  and  she  was  declared 
sane,  after  a  careful  hearing ;  Judge  White 
strongly  denouncing  the  treatment  she  had 
received.  Upon  this  her  husband  declared  he 
would  do  nothing  more  for  her ;  and  while  gaining 
delay  by  appealing  to  the  Supreme  Court,  put  his 
property  out  of  his  hands,  so  that  nothing  could 
be  got  for  her  support ;  he  then  withdrew  hi? 
appeal.  She  has  never  received  a  cent  from  him 
since,  unless  when  she  came  to  Connecticut  last 
fall.  To  further  break  her  *  high  spirit,'  he  cried 
her  down  in  the  papers,  forbidding  all  persons  to 
trust  her,  —  a  resort  of  only  the  lowest  and  most 
ignorant.  Then  she  was  never  permitted  to  see 
her  child,  the  greatest  desire  of  her  life.  She 
wrote  her  letters,  but  received  no  reply.  She- 
worked  in  a  tailor's  shop  up  to  last  May,  when 
she  fainted  several  times,  and  from  exhaustion 
was  obliged  to  give  up  work,  and,  during  several 
weeks'  sickness,  was  cared  for  by  a  Boston  family, 
who  had  known  and  respected  her  for  twenty 
years.  After  that,  she  was  with  other  friends,  as 
she  was  too  much  broken  down  to  earn  her  own 
living.  Sick  and  discouraged,  she  came  to  Con- 
necticut last  fall,  hoping  the  laws  here  might  help 
her,  and  also  that  she  might  hear  something  of 
her  child.  As  for  the  letters  he  boasts  of  having 


408  SHADOWY  HAND;  on, 

sent  his  wife  while  in  the  asylum,  they  are  of  lift 
account  whatever.  They  were  sent  from  policy, 
—  to  make  his  own  side  smooth.  He  visited  her 
but  once  in  six  years,  and  meantime  sent  hundreds 
of  letters  to  Massachusetts  in  praise  of  himself. 
These  are  facts  to  which  hundreds  can  testify. 

"This  is  the  substance  of  the  letter  in  the  Newton 
Journal,  and  the  writer  of  it  says  if  any  one 
wants  to  know  more  he  would  refer  them  '  to  tho 
Hon.  Oliver  Warner,  our  esteemed  Secretary  of 
State,  a  man  of  calm,  unbiased  judgment,  who 
has  known  both  parties  for  twenty  years,  and 
whom  money  cannot  buy,  he  being  one  among 
many  of  the  higher  respectability  to  whom  refer- 
ence could  be  made.' 

"  The  Newton  Journal,  of  May  2,  has  the  follow- 
ing letter : 

"'  BOSTON,  APRIL  27,  1874. 
"'To  the  JEditor  of  the  Newton  Journal: 

"'My  attention  has  been  called  to  a  letter  from 
New  Haven,  published  in  your  paper  of  the  18th 
inst.,  including,  among  other  matters,  a  letter 
written  by  myself  to  Mr.  Charles  Scott,  June  8, 
1869.  Since  the  date  of  that  letter  my  opinion 
of  the  honesty  and  integrity  of  Mr.  Scott  has 
undergone  such  a  change,  that  I  am  unwilling 
it  should  stand  as  my  present  estiintito  of  his 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  409 

character ;  and  no  one  knows  better  than  Mr. 
Scott  himself,  that  since  the  time  of  its  writing, 
I  have  had  the  best  of  reasons  for  the  change. 
The  dishonesty  of  this  parade  of  the  estimate  in 
which  I  once  held  him  is  of  a  piece  with  the 
character  of  the  representations  which  he  made 
when  he  palmed  off  upon  me,  under  professions 
of  friendship,  the  stock  of  a  certain  manufactur- 
ing company  at  its  par  value,  knowing  it  to  be 
comparatively  worthless. 

: '  The  less  Mr.  Scott  appeals  to  the  people  of 
Massachusetts  for  a  vindication  of  his  character, 
so  long  as  he  dares  not  show  himself  within  its 
borders  for  fear  of  the  legal  consequences  of  his 
actions,  the  more  likely  will  he  be  to  convince  the 
people  of  the  State  where  ho  now  resides  of  his 
honor  and  integrity. 

'  Yours  very  truly, 

*"  OLIVER  WARNER.' 

"  One  of  our  committee  wrote  to  Mrs.  Mariette 
R.  Pettee,  of  Meriden,  a  member  of  the  State 
Board  of  Charities,  asking  her  if  she  would  accom- 
pany one  of  us  to  Middletown  to  see  Mrs.  Scott. 
She  wrote  in  reply  a  very  kind  letter,  in  which  she 
stated  that  she  had  just  visited  Mrs.  Scott,  and, 
being  in  very  poor  health,  didn't  feel  able  to  go 
again.  We  make  the  following  extract  from  her 

o  O 

letter : 


410  SHADOWY    HAND  ;    OR, 

"'Mr.  Stark,  Chairman  of  the  Board,  and  Mrs. 
Hoyt,  of  Stamford,  the  other  lady  member  of  the 
Board,  went  to  Middletovvn  and  visited  Mrs.  Scott, 
who  was  very  reticent, — in  fact  made  no  reply  to 
any  of  their  questions ;  and  told  the  attendant, 
after  they  were  gone,  that  she  was  afraid  of  them. 
Feeling  some  better  the  next  day,  I  went  myself, 
and  saw  Mrs.  Scott  alone.  At  first  she  was  reti- 
cent, but  after  a  little  while  I  established  myself 
in  her  confidence,  and  she  answered  many  of  my 
questions.  The  impressson  on  my  mind  from 
Mrs.  Scott  herself,  and  from  what  I  learn  of  her 
state  at  the  time  of  her  commitment  at  Middletown, 
is  that  she  was,  and  is,  a  subject  for  hospital  treat- 
ment, and  that  she  is  better  eared  for  there,  than 
she  probably  will  be  elsewhere.  What  she  desires 
is  her  daughter.  We,  as  a  Board,  can  have  no 
power  to  grant  her  that  daughter,  so  long  as  the 
husband  does  not  feel  it  expedient  to  take  her  into 
her  presence.  There  are  laws  back  of  the  Board 
of  Charities,  which  will  have  to  be  modified  before 
the  mother  can  have  her  child.  Legally,  we  are 
powerless  to  make  wrong  right.  I  have  conflict- 
ing reports  respecting  this  case,  aside  from  what 
Mr.  Morgan  has  stated,  but  they  are  antecedent 
to  the  time  that  Mrs.  Scott  was  sent  to  Middletown, 
and  we,  as  a  Board,  are  not  empowered  to  go  back 
of  that.  I  would  not  hesitate  to  do  anything 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  411 

that  would  restore  Mrs.  Scott  to  her  reason  or  her 
rights,  but,  from  my  experience  in  such  cases,  I  do 
not  share  the  confidence  of  those  who  believe  she 
would  be  benefited  by  removal  from  the  hospital. 
I  have  every  reason  to  believe  she  is  tenderly 
cared  for.  If  the  possible  unkindness  of  those 
who  should  have  loved  her  drove  her  into  her 
present  condition,  will  anything  shqrt  of  that  love 
restore  her?  I  think  not.  So  long  as  effect 
follows  cause,  the  depressing  influence  still  exists, 
and  no  one  can  relieve  the  matter. 

" '  I  have  never  doubted  the  honest  intention  of 
Mr.  Morgan.  I  only  felt,  and  told  him  so,  that 
I  feared  his  sensational  way  of  bringing  out  the 
subject  would  only  result  in  injuring  him,  while 
with  most  people  it  .would  prejudice  the  cause 
he  advocated. 

"One  of  our  committee  recently  visited  Mrs. 
Scott  in  the  hospital.  The  superintending  physic- 
ian there,  Dr.  Shew,  was  very  kind  and  courteous, 
and  showed  us  into  Mrs.  Scott's  room,  after  giv- 
ing an  account  of  her  case  since  she  has  been  there. 
He  says  she  is  better  UOAV  than  she  was  on  her 
arrival  there.  He  states  that  there  is  no  doubt  as 
to  her  insanity.  lie  calls  it  a  case  of  melancholia. 
Her  husband  has  been  there  once,  but  she  has  a, 
great  aversion  to  him,  and  does  not  wish  to  see 
him.  We  fjuutl  her  in  her  room  sitting  on  a 


412  SHADOWY  IIAXD;  OR, 

trunk,  where,  the  doctor  says,  she  sits  all  the  time, 
when  not  sitting  on  a  lounge,  in  the  hall  just  out- 
side the  room.  She  is  a  woman  apparently  fifty- 
five  years  old,  with  black  eyes  and  black  hair, 
which  is  now  thinning  out  on  top  of  the  head. 
She  has  a  face  that-,  under  happy  circumstances, 
might  be  called  a  bright  and  pleasant  one.  There 
is  nothing  unpleasant  about  it  now.  Her  eyes 
had  nothing  of  the  glare  frequently  seen  in  lunacy. 
She  sat  with  her  elbow  resting  on  her  lap,  her 
cheek  pressed  into  her  hand,  and  her  eyes  down- 
cast. She  simply  had  the  appearance  of  one  who 
is  utterly  dejected  and  forlorn  —  discouraged  — 
who  has  given  up  all  hope.  She  uttered  no  word 
to  aliy  of  our  questions,  but  on  being  asked  if  she 
would  like  to  see  her  daughter  a  gleam  came  in 
her  eye,  and  she  nodded  her  head  quickly  and 
vigorously  several  times  in  the  affirmative.  This 
was  the  />nly  token  of  recognition  or  response  to 
our  questions  ;  but  that  one  token  showed  that  her 
insanity,  of  whatever  kind  it  may  be,  has  not 
blunted  her  mental  faculties  beyond  the  power  of 
response  to  appeals  to  her  sympathetic  nature. 
She  appreciates  them  as  fully  as  any  one ;  prob- 
ably more  than  others,  from  the  fact  that  she  is 
shut  out  from  the  sympathy  of  those  she  loves. 
The  woman's  one  sole  desire  is  to  see  her  daugh- 
ter. The  doctors  have  declared  that  it  would  do 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  413 

her  no  harm,  and  that  it  might  be  a  benefit.  But 
Mr.  Scott  has  sent  her  daughter  away  to  the  West, 
we  understand,  so  that  there  can  be  no  possible 
chance  of  her  seeing  her  mother.  His  persistence 
in  keeping  the  daughter  from  her  mother,  when  to 
see  her  is  the  greatest  desire  of  her  life,  is  one  of 
the  ugliest  facts  we  have  learnt  of  this  man, 
unless  the  fact  of  his  allowing  her  to  support  her- 
self in  a  tailor's  shop,  till  she  fell  from  exhaustion, 
be  equal  to  it.  He  is  worth  several  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars.  A  member  of  a  business  firm  in 
this  city,  who  has  known  him  many  years,  says  he 
is  worth  half  a  million.  He  has  put  it  all  out  of 
his  hands.  He  has  professed  an  unusual  amount 
of  affection  for  his  wife,  but  with  half  a  million  at 
his  command,  and  his  wife  in  a  tailor's  shop,  such 
professions  are  hollow,  —  simply  worthless.  We 
asked  Dr.  Shew  if  there  were  any  fear  that  it 
would  injure  Mrs.  Scott  to  see  her  daughter.  He 
said  there  was  not,  but  that  Mr.  Scott  feared  the 
effect  on  the  daughter.  Is  the  daughter's  happi- 
ness of  more  account  than  the  mother's?  The 
latter  has  no  gleam  of  hope  nor  sympathy  to  make 
life  endurable,  but  sits  in  one  spot,  day  in  and  day 
out — week  in  and  week  out  —  in  the  black  gloom 
of  utter  despair.  Is  it  not  reasonable  to  suppose 
that  the  voice  of  love  and  sympathy,  if  allowed 
to  reach  her,  v»-ould  prove  a  more  efficient  balm 


414  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

than  any  drug  or  straight  jacket  ?  We  do  not  d oubt 
that  she  has  the  best  of  care,  for  the  Middletown 
Asylum  is  one  of  the  best  of  its  kind ,  and  its  manag- 
ing physician  is  kind  and  attentive  to  its  patients, 
but  the  atmosphere  of  a  lunatic  asylum,  at  the 
best,  is  not  the  most  genial  and  hopeful  to  depressed 
spirits.  It  is  not  for  us  to  point  out  the  course 
to  pursue  with  this  unhappy  woman.  It  strikes  us, 
however,  that  Mr.  Scott,  with  the  great  wealth  he 
possesses,  and  the  great  love  for  his  wife  he  pro- 
fesses, could  take  some  steps  to  make  her  existence 
more  tolerable  than  spending  it  sitting  on  a  trunk 
brooding  on  the  blackness  of  despair.  It  has 
been  suggested  that  her  only  remedy  lies  in  removal 
from  all  asylums,  and  being  put  under  the  loving 
care  and  attention  of  those  with  whom  she  is  iu 
sympathy,  —  for  there  are  such.  A  short  trial  of 
this  kind  could  do  no  harm,  and  might  result  in 
good.  Mr.  Scott's  affection  for  his  wife  should 
lead  him  to  take  some  such  steps  for  her  relief. 
He  could  do  this  without  inflicting  on  her  his 
own  presence,  which  is  evidently  distressing  to 
her. 

*"  STEPHEN  H.  WAITE, 
SILAS  CHAPMAN, 
FRANCES  ELLEN  BUKR, 
CHARLES  S.  WARNER.'" 


LEFE-STEUGGLES.  415 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

Paying  off  the  Debt.  — Series  of  Lectures.  — My  Pulpit  occu- 
pied by  the  Methodists.  —  Notices  from  Ziori's  Herald,  Bos- 
ton Post,  Traveller,  and  Daily  News.  —  "  Slavery  of  Fashion: 
Old  Bonnets,  and  They  That  Wear  Them."  — Varieties  of 
Bonnets.  —  How  to  Make  a  Bonnet.  —  How  to  Put  It  On.  — 
How  to  Wear  It.  —  Those  who  Wear  Old  Bonnets.  —  Honor 
to  the  Working-women.  —  Coronation  of  Labpr. 

O  raise  the  mortgage  on  my  chapel,  I  gave 
myself  up  to  lecturing,  the  Methodists 
occupying  my  chapel,  and  filling  my 
pulpit,  the  meanwhile. 
Now  came  a  change  in  the  tone  of  my 
address ;  heretofore  I  had  laid  down  the  terrors 
of  the  law,  and  driven  things  in  sledge-hammer 
style.  I  found,  however,  lecture-audiences  averse 
to  that  style ;  they  pay  for  admission,  and  ex- 
pect to  be  pleased.  My  aim  was  first  to  enlist 
their  sympathies  by  humorous  or  pathetic  illustra- 
tion, and  then  to  drive  the  truth  home.  I  am  not 
certain  whether,  considering  the  vast  numbers  of 
the  audiences  addressed,  I  was  not  achieving  more 
good  in  this  way  than  by  pulpit  appeals. 

The    Zion's  Herald   says   of  the   Lecture   on 
w  Humbug    :  —  "It  has   met  a  popular   demand, 


416  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

and  is  turning  attention  to  the  alarming  increase 
of  imposture,  and  those  that  thrive  on  it.  His 
chapel  has  been  crowded  again  and  again  by  deeply 
interested  audiences,  composed  of  both  sceptics  and 
believers,  and  numbering  among  them  many  of  the 
elite  of  the  city." 

The  Boston  Post  remarks  :  — "  For  over  an 
hour  and  a  half  Mr.  Morgan  regaled  his  audience 
•with  an  expose  of  the  humbugs  of  the  present 
generation,  in  which  jokes,  anecdotes,  and  his  own 
inimitable  illustrations  were  sandwiched  with  pro- 
fusion, all  of  which  conveyed  to  the  mind  some 
high  moral  idea." 

The  Traveller  observes  :  —  "  Mr.  Morgan  is  a 
host  h*  himself.  He  can  give  a  whole  course, 
and  make  it  more  profitable  than  most  of  the 
lyceums  do  with  a  variety  of  first-class  star 
lecturers.  Any  lyceum  in  arrears  had  better  call 
on  Mr.  Morgan.  He  has  attracted  larger  crowds 
and  awakened  more  enthusiasm  than  any  of  the 
lyceum  lecturers  in  Boston." 

"  Slavery  of  Fashion :  Old  Bonnets,  and  They 
That  Wear  Them:'  —  Notices  of  the  press  :  "The 
New  Lecture  on  '  Old  Bonnets,'  by  Rev.  Henry 
Morgan,  filled  the  hall  with  a  paying  audience, 
and  awakened  more  applause  and  enthusiasm  than 
were  ever  elicited  by  'Fast  Young  Men,'  or  'Street 
Life  in  Boston.'  The  Coal-Scuttle,  the  Close 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  417 

Cottage,  the  Kiss-me-Quick,  the  Quaker,  the 
Throe-Decker,  and  the  Mansard  Bonnet,  were 
handsomely  detailed  for  woman's  delight  and 
amusement.  His  portrayal  of  the  origin  of  many 
of  Fashion's  absurdities,  such  as  the  Grecian  Bend, 
Royal  Ruffles  and  Wigs,  High-heeled  Shoes, 
Waterfalls,  Rats,  and  Chignons,  brought  down 
the  house.  An  old  miser  said  he  would  give  a 
hundred  dollars  to  have  his  wife  hear  it.  Mr. 
Morgan's  appeal  to  the  wives  and  daughters  of 
working-men  to  discard  aristocratic  notions,  to 
stand  up  for  labor  and  make  plainness  of  dress 
respectable,  was  one  of  his  finest  perorations." 
—  Boston  Post. 

"  Mr.  Morgan  in  Music  Hall.  —  Three  thousand 
t  ickets  were  taken  at  Music  Hall  for  Rev.  Henry 
Morgan's  last  lecture,  —  'Old  Bonnets,  and  They 
That  Wear  Them.'  Mr.  Morgan  most  assuredly  has 
the  hearts  of  the  Boston  public.  Coming  unher- 
alded fifteen  years  ago,  to  this  city,  with  no  friends, 
no  religious  denomination  to  endorse  him,  he  sat 
down  among  the  lowly,  the  outcast,  the  vicious ; 
he  gathered  round  him  the  boot-black,  the  news- 
boy, the  street  wanderer ;  he  clothed  them,  he  fed 
them,  he  ate  with  them ;  he  declaimed  with  them 
on  the  same  platform,  before  the  same  enraptured, 
audiences  ;  he  saw  them  rise  to  success,  and  some 
of  them  to  reiio\vii ;  and  on  this  tidal  wave  of 
27 


418  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

public  applause  created  for  them,  Mr.  Morgan 
himself  has  arisen  to  become  one  of  the  most 
interesting  and  entertaining  of  public  speakers. 
His  last  lecture  awakened  more  enthusiasm  and 
stronger  demonstrations  of  approval  than  any 
previous  effort.  —  Boston  Daily  News. 

"  *  TEXT  :  "  The  fashion  of  this  world  passeth 
away."  —  1  Cor.  vii.  30.  —  If  you  don't  believe  it, 
look  at  the  new  style  of  Bonnets.  (Laughter.) 

' '  The  Bonnet  represents  character  —  frivolous 
or  solid.  A  fantastic  Bonnet  represents  a  friv- 
olous, fantastic  character.  A  plain,  substantial 
Bonnet  indicates  solid  sense,  —  a  sturdy  charac- 
ter. 

"  '  The  Old  Bonnet  is  a  historical  fact.  The  Coal 
Scuttle  indicates  the  days  of  our  grandmothers, 
and  the  Sugar  Scoop  a  generation  later.  The 
Kiss-me-Quick  recalls  the  days  of  pur  boyhood. 
The  Quaker  Bonnet  indicates  maiden  integrity. 
The  Close  Cottage  is  a  symbol  of  modesty.  The 
Three  Decker,  with  streamer  set  and  pennant  fly- 
ing, indicates  a  craft  that  cannot  be  trusted  far 
out  at  sea,  —  more  sails  than  ballast.  The  old 
green  Calash  Bonnet  was  held  by  a  martingale ; 
implying  that  our  mothers'  tongues  were  bridled. 
(Laughter.)  The  Rising  Sun  denotes  high  as- 
pirations. The  Sundown  illustrates  the  decline 
of  hope.  The  Mansard  —  four  and  a  half  story 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  419 

—  is  a  roof  too  high  for  Cupid's  fireman  to  aspire 
to.  The  Dolly  Varden  represents  those  that 
figure  largely  in  roses  and  sun-flowers. 

" *  The  Bonnet  of  the  Period  is  like  a  flower- 
garden.  It  has  all  the  vegetables  of  the  season. 
It  is  decorated  with  apple  blossoms,  orange  blos- 
soms, peach  blossoms,  forget-me-nots,  pinks  and 
daisies,  cherries,  grapes,  plums,  blackberries, 
strawberries,  raspberries,  carrots,  parsnips,  pars- 
ley, corn  silk,  corn  stalk,  sorrel,  fennel,,  marjoram, 
squash  seeds,  melon  seeds,  bean  pods,  pea  pods, 
green  beans,  pea  beans,  and  string  beans.'  (Laugh- 
ter.) 

' '  What  a  garden  is  carried  on  one  little  head  ! 
(Roars  of  laughter.) 

" '  I  promised  to  give  "  Old  Bonnets  with  New 
Trimmings."  These  vegetables  are  the  trimmings.' 
(Laughter  and  applause.)  After  describing  the 
Reuben  Bonnet,  of  the  '  high  cockade  and  the  pea- 
cock feather'  style,  and  the  Spanish,  Wellington, 
and  the  Oriental,  he  proceeded  to  the  Glass  Bon- 
net : 

' '  Glass  Bonnets  were  brought  into  notice  at  the 
Vienna  Exhibition,  and  will  be  the  fashion  next 
season.  So  says  the  Oracle.  By  their  transpar- 
ency they  show  what  is  in  a  woman's  head. 

'Who  can  tell  all  there  is  in  a  woman's  head, 
all  that  pesters  a  young  maiden's  brain  ?     Combs, 


420  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

hair-piiis,  nets,  curls,  frizzles,  arrows,  cupids, 
crosses,  anchors,  red  bird,  humming  bird,  blue 
jay,  canary,  paroquet,  butterflies,  grasshoppers, 
rats,  mice,  and  other  animals  too  numerous  to 
mention.  (Great  merriment.) 

" '  Mercy  !  what  a  head  !  What  a  load  to  carry  I 
No  wonder,  with  all  this  on  her  brain,  that  the 
young  lady  is  troubled  with  "  bees  in  her  bonnet." ' 
(Applause.) 

"  Mr.  Morgan  then  gave  an  amusing  recipe  for 
making  a  bonnet : 

1  Two  scraps  of  foundation,  with  velvet  combined, 
A  shower  of  French  rose-buds  to  droop  down  behind  ; 
Fine  ribbons  and  flowers,  with  crape  and  illusion; 
Then  mix  and  arrange  them  in  graceful  profusion, 
And  place  with  a  clasp  the  bright  feather  on  it, 
When  lo  and  behold  !  what  a  love  of  a  Bonnet ! ' 

"Then  he  related  'Six  Pleas'  of  a  wife  to 
procure  a  new  Bonnet.  The  last  plea  was,  — '  I 
will  go  right  home  to  my  mother  !  I  will ! '  This 
settled  the  matter.  She  got  the  Bonnet !  Her 
husband  knew  too  well  the  terror  of  a  mother- 
in-law!'  (Loud  applause.) 

M  Mr.  Morgan  quoted  How  to  Put  On  a  Bonnet. 

'  The  ceremony  of  trying  on  a  new  Bonnet  is 

an  important  affair.     The  dear  Jittle  Bonnet  is 

lifted  carefully  out  of  its   box,   as   if  it  were  a 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  421 

jewel.  The  lady  gazes  on  it  in  admiration,  takes 
a  front  look,  side  look,  and  back  view  of  it, 
turning  it  quietly  round  and  round  on  her  hand. 
She  daintily  rearranges  a  bud,  gives  a  twist  to  a 
cluster  of  flowers,  she  shakes  up  the  plume,  but 
immediately  smooths  it  down  again.  Then  she 
closely  scrutinizes  the  quality  of  the  velvet,  the 
texture  of  the  ribbons,  and  the  character  of  the 
lace.  Getting  before  the  mirror,  the  good  woman 
proceeds  to  smooth  down  her  hair,  or  arrange 
her  curls,  and  with  due  solemnity  the  Bonnet  is 
put  upon  her  head.  It  takes  about  ten  minutes  to 
get  the  Bonnet  into  exact  position  ;  then  a  glance 
of  such  perfect  satisfaction  —  the  ravishing  smile, 
the  arching  of  the  eyebrows,  a  flood  of  delightful 
exclamations  —  "  Oh  !  charming  !  lovely  !  mag- 
nificent !  What  a  love  of  a  Bonnet !  " 

"  He  that  can't  enjoy  tliat  must  have  a  heart  of 
stone.  Little  does  the  bachelor  think  what  a 
sensation  is  in  store  for  him  when  he  offers  his 
tirst  present  after  the  wedding.  Oh,  the  rapture 
of  presenting  a  successful  Bonnet ! '  (Great  merri- 
ment.) 

"He then  spoke  of  those  who  wore  Old  Bonnets. 
First:  the  unfortunate,  the  fallen.  Second:  the 
plain,  the  thrifty,  the  brave.  Third :  the  honest 
poor. 

"lie  pathetically  delineated  the  sufferings  of  a 


422  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

dying  working-woman,  and  graphically  contrasted 
her  case  with  that  of  the  luxuries  of  the  money 
kings,  closing  with  the  Coronation  of  Labor  :  '  The 
bell  of  centuries  hath  struck.  Boom !  boom  1 
It  is  the  knell  of  Despotism  in  the  Old  World, 
and  of  Caste,  Class,  Fashion,  Monied  Monopolies, 
and  (thank  God)  it  is  the  knell  of  Chattel  Slavery 
in  the  New.'  (Tremendous  applause.) 

"Mr .  Morgan's  appeals  to  the  wives  and  daughters 
of  working-men  to  discard  aristocratic  notions, 
to  stand  up  for  labor,  make  plainness  of  dress 
respectable,  was  one  of  his  finest  perorations." 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  423 


CHAPTER    XL. 

Great  Rush  to  Boston  Music  Hall.  —  "Bachelors  and  their 
Follies."  —  Notices  of  the  Press. — Seven  Reasons  Why 
Men  Don't  Many.  —  Bride  freighted  like  a  Schooner.  — 
Arguments  in  Favor  of  Marriage. — Need  of  Home. — 
Happy  Pair. — Well-matched  Span. — Lecture  on  "Old 
Maids  and  Their  Accusers.''  —  Accusers'  Verdict. —  Reasons 
Why  Old  Maids  Have  Not  Married.  —  Monument  to  Old 
Maids.  —  "Memoriae  Sacrum."  —  Fairy  Tale  of  the  Alham- 
bra.  —  Woman's  Temperance  Crusade. 

Y  two  most  attractive  lectures  were  "  Bach- 
elors aiid  Their  Follies  :  Why  Men  Don't 
Marry,"  and  a  lecture  in  defence  of  Sin- 
gle Women,  entitled  "  Old  Maids  and 
Their  Accusers."  The  immense  crowds  anxious 
for  admission,  extended  from  the  doors  of  the 
Boston  Music  Hall  to  Winter  and  Tremont  Streets. 
The  Boston  Times  says  :  —  "  This  lecture  is  the 
most  attractive  of  Mr.  Morgan's  whole  course  of 
lectures.  Wornan-haters  are  anxious  to  know 
what  can  be  said  about  female  extravagance ; 
young  men  desire  to  obtain  some  excuse  for  post- 
poning the  fatal  day  ;  yoilng  women  want  to  know 
why  in  the  world  men  don't  propose.  The  lec- 
ture strikes  the  hearts  of  all.  By  it  young  ladies 
study  their  chances.  Old  bachelors  expect  to  get 


424  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

a  rub,  and  miserly  men  look  for  a  tling  at  extrav- 
agance, while  the  great  moral  —  the  sacred  rite  of 
marriage  —  is  to  be  promoted.  The  lecture  was 
received  with  enthusiastic  applause  ;  and  so  great 
was  the  rush  for  tickets,  that  the  police  were 
obliged  to  keep  back  the  crowd  from  the  ticket- 
office." 

The  Boston  Transcript  remarks  : — "A  large  and 
enthusiastic  audience  greeted  Rev.  Henry  Morgan 
last  evening,  to  hear  'Why  Men  Don't  Marry. 
How  Some  Act  Who  Do.'  Long  before  the  hour 
announced,  crowds  were  clamoring  at  the  doors 
for  admission.  As  the  lecture  proceeded,  the 
audience  laughed,  cheered,  and  wept  in  alternate 
succession." 

The  Boston  Traveller  reports  :  —  "  The  crowd  to 
hear  Rev.  Henry  Morgan  on  , '  Why  Men  Don't 
Marry,'  last  evening,  was  unprecedented.  The 
interesting '  conundrum '  was  treated  under  various 
heads ;  and  many  entertaining  and  instructive 
facts,  thoughts,  and  deductions  were  given,  inter- 
spersed with  ludicrous  witticisms,  producing  tumul- 
tuous applause.  The  closing  part  of  the  lecture, 
—  'How  Some  Act  Who  Do,'  illustrating  the  sad 
case  of  a  wife  placed  m  an  insane  asylum  by  a 
brutal  husband,  was  rendered  in  Mr.  Morgan's 
peculiar,  forcible  style,  eliciting  the  warm,  sym- 
pathetic tear  from  many  an  eye. " 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  425 

The  Transcript  adds:  — "'Why  Men  Don't 
Marry,'  filled  Mo  rgail  Chapel  last  evening, —  aisles, 
pulpit,  and  stairs.  Mr.  Morgan  was  in  the  best 
of  humor ;  the  selfishness  of  bachelors,  the  extrav- 
agance of  women,  and  the  short-comings  of  hus- 
bands, kept  the  house  in  a  roar.  The  well-matched 
pair,  the  sweets  of  home,  the  ties  of  children,  the 
family  in  heaven,  drew  forth  tears  and  applause, 
ft  ever  before  have  such  crowds  attended  his  lec- 
tures as  at  this  course,  especially  last  evening,  — 
three  hundred  persons  paying  for  standing-room 
after  the  seats  were  filled.  Hundreds  were  in 
their  places  an  hour  before  the  lecture. " 

Report  by  the  Daily  News :  — 

"'I  propose  to  spend  an  evening  with  Bachelors. 
If  there  are  any  besides  bachelors  here  to-night 
(and  I  perceive  there  are),  they  are  welcome  as 
invited  guests.  Bachelors  are  the  elite  of  society 
-  the  elect,  the  privileged  class :  privileged  to 
roam  the  world  without  bearing  its  burdens  ;  to 
eat  the  fruits  of  earth  without  adding  to  its  pop- 
ulation. They  are  gentlemen  of  leisure ;  they 
aspire  to  the  beau  ideal,  they  are  beaus  at  large  ; 
they  claim  to  be  connoisseurs  of  female  excellence 
—  but  they  dodge  the  females.  (Laughter.) 

"  '  Bachelors  are  fond  of  titles.  "  A.  B."  sounds 
large  to  them  —  "  Artiam  Baccalaureus" — Bach- 
elor of  Arts.  "  A.  M. ,"  Master  of  Arts.  They  are 


426  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

masters  of  arts, — the  art  of  evading  or  shirking. 
All  bachelors  are  shirkers'.  They  shirk  the 
woman  question ;  the  marriage  question;  they 
shirk  responsibility;  they  are  afraid  of  what 
are  called  —  "little  responsibilities."  (Applause.) 
Yet  bachelors  have  their  comforts  :  they  live  in  a 

Paradise  all  to  themselves ;  Adam,  with  no  Eve 
t- 

to  bother  him ;  no  tormenting  trouble  about  the 
apple  business.  (Laughter.)  They  have  no 
wives  to  scold  them  for  going  to  bed  with  their 
boots  on.  I  don't  say  bachelors,  as  a  class,  get 
oblivious,  —  "get  tight,"  but  some  do  !  Late  hours 
make  them  forgetful.  They  have  no  wives  to 
hide  their  faults,  reform  their  habits,  to  trim  them 
down,  take  the  conceit  out  of  them ;  none  to  lift 
them  up  into  noble  manhood.  Bachelors  are 
often  sceptical.  They  have  not  faith  in  women 
or  Deity.  Hume,  Gibbon,  Hobbs,  Voltaire,  Pope, 
Lamb,  were  sceptical,  unmarried  men.  Sceptical 
men  do  not  always  make  good  husbands.  Boling- 
broke  quarrelled  with  and  parted  from  his  wife ; 
Byron  acted  shamefully ;  Coleridge  left  his  wife 
to  starve  ;  —  Shelley  did  but  little  better.' 

*"  Here  the  speaker  quoted  a  bachelor's  defence  : 
'  Who  is  petted  to  death  by  fond  mothers  who  have 
marriageable  daughters.;  invited  to  tea  and  even- 
ing parties,  and  told  to  drop  in  when  it  is  conve- 
nient? The  Bachelor. 


UFE-STRUGGLES.  427 

'  Who  lives  in  clover  all  his  days,  the  pet  of 
female  society,  and,  when  he  dies,  has  flowers 
strewn  upon  his  grave  by  fair  ladies  who  couldn't 
entrap  him  ?  The  Bachelor. 

:'Who  strews  flowers  on  the  married  man's 
grave  ?  His  widow  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it !  She  pulls 
down  the  tombstone  that  Fashion's  six  weeks ' 
grief  has  set  up  in  her  heart,  and  she  goes  right 
off  and  gets  married  again,  she  does. 

'  Who  cannot  take  an  evening  stroll,  go  to  the 
club  or  ball,  but  upon  his  return  receives  a  Caudle 
Lecture ,  lasting  half  the  night  ?  The  Married  Man. 

c '  A  smoky  chimney  is  no  more  to  be  compared 
to  a  scolding  wife,  than  a  fire-cracker  is  to  a  thun- 
der clap.  (Laughter.) 

'  'Seven  Keasons  why  Men  Don't  Marry.  — Be- 
cause they  can't  get  the  woman  they  want. 
Because  they  are  cowards,  they  dare  not  face  the 
music.  Some  are  sceptical,  they  have  no  faith  in 
woman's  constancy.  Some  are  selfish  and  stingy, 
—  think  they  could  not  support  a  wife.  Some 
men  are  spendthrifts,  —  of  course  they  can't  afford 
to  marry.  Some  are  afraid  of  divorce,  —  don't 
know  how  long  a  wife  may  tarry.  Last  reason, — 
Woman's  Extravagance.  This  is  cause  for  man's 
hesitating.  If  I  had  but  $1,200  a  year,  and  my 
intended  needs  expensive  shawls,  servants,  car- 
riage, costing  $3,000,  my  pile  would  look  small  in 


428  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR 

her  eyes,  and  I  should  look  smaller.  What 
•would  I  do  ?  Do  !  Why  —  leave  her  father's 
house.  (Laughter.) 

'"  Schooner. — It  costs  as  much  to  launch  a  woman 
on  the  sea  .of  wedded  life,  in  these  times,  as  it 
would  to  fit  out  a  small  schooner.  As  to  sails, 
cordage,  pennants  and  streamers,  the  difference, 
1  opine,  is  in  favor  of  the  schooner.  As  to  her 
outfit,  she  is  freighted  with  bonnet,  veil,  streamer, 
necklace,  ear-rings,  pins,  chains,  bracelets,  rings, 
ruflles,  bows,  bauds,  buttons,  loops,  folds,  pipings, 
pleats,  silks,  muslins,  laces,  fans,  boots,  slippers, 
collars,  cufis,  gloves,  nets,  chignons,  waterfalls, 
rats,  mice,  frizzles,  switches,  puffs,  curls,  belts, 
pannier,  tournure  —  Grecian  Bciid  !  (Great  mer- 
riment.) What  a  cargo  for  so  small  a  vessel  1 
Few  are  the  underwriters  that  will  "  take  a  risk " 
in  such  a  craft !  (Laughter  and  applause.) 

'  Whom  do  Great  Men  Marry  ? '  was  his  next 
heading;  then  he  gave  'Arguments  for  Marriage.' 
Nature,  History,  and  Revelation  declare,  'It  is  not 
good  for  man  to  be  alone.'  Every  man  should 
have  a  help-meet,  a  bosom  friend  to  co-operate 
with  him  in  the  battle  of  life.  Man  is  but  half 
himself,  a  single  blade  of  shears,  useless  without 
a  help-meet  bound  to  him  by  matrimonial  rivet. 
A  wife  is  the  balance-wheel  of  a  man's  character, 
the  regulator  of  his  morals.  Marriage  develops 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  429 

both  husband  and  wife.  Married  men  live  one- 
sixth  longer  than  single  men,  and  twice  as  circum- 
spectly. 

"He  then  spoke  of  the  need  of  'Home.'  — 
Boarding-houses  are  not  homes.  A  true  home  is 
man's  Paradise  Regained.  Facts  of  history  ; — the 
Romans  gave  bachelors  no  legacies  ;  Corinth  gave 
them  no  sepulture  ;  Athenians  scourged  them  ;  the 
rabbis  insisted  that  every  person  at  the  age  of 
twenty  should  marry.  In  1695,  a  tax  of  one 
shilling  a  head  was  imposed  upon  old  bachelors  in 
England.  If  taxed  now,  he  didn't  know  where 
some  of  them  would  get  the  shilling.  (Laughter. ) 

"  President  Madison  owed  his  popularity  to  the 
affability  of  his  wife  ;  Sir  James  Mackintosh  was 
reclaimed  from  dissipation  by  his  wife ;  Hon. 
Wm.  Wirt  was  reclaimed  by  his  betrothed ;  John 
Hawkins,  and  John  Bunyan,  were  saved  by  their 
wives.  Let  those  who  have  had  a  faithful  wife, 
and  lost  her  by  death,  attest  the  worth  of  woman. 

"  Objections  to  marriage  were  then  answered, 
closing  with  a  well-matched  span  —  a  'Happy 
Pair.'  'Marriage  gives  unity  of  purpose;  makes 
a  happy  pair  pull  together  like  two  ponies.  I  like 
to  see  a  well-matched  span  harnessed  for  the  road. 
There  they  stand,  champing  the  bit,  heads  erect, 
pawing  the  ground,  impatient  for  the  start.  Now 
the  reins  are  seized!  "Whoa,  whoa,  boy!"  Off 


430  SHADOWY  HAND;   OK, 

they  go  at  lively  gait.  — "  Gently,  gently,  boy  !  " 
Stepping  together  up  the  hill,  down  the  valley, 
they  go  without  a  jar,  briskly  trotting  towards  their 
goal.  Such  is  wedded  life.  Young  married  couple 
evenly  matched,  joyously  passing  through  the 
flowery  fields  of  youth.  All  nature  smiles  as  they 
travel,  step  to  step,  eye  to  eye,  heart  to  heart, 
sweetly  on  life's  journey  towards  the  heavenly 
city. 

M' MORAL. —  Advice  to  Bachelors.  In  all  your 
aspirations,  aspire  for  wedlock.  In  all  your  seek- 
ings,  seek  the  help  of  a  true  woman.  In  all  your 
gettings,  get  a  wife ;  and  never  cease  from  getting 
till  you  get  married.'  (Great  merriment  and  ap- 
plause.) 

"  Physician,  heal  thyself.''  —  He  then  gave  a 
bit  of  his  own  history,  told  how  he  was  conse- 
crated to  prison-work,  to  humanity,  to  celibacy, 
to  God — his  success,  his  sacrifices  and  trials — in 
a  manner  that  started  many  a  tear." 

"Old  Maids  and  Their  Accusers."  — The  Tran- 
script says  :  —  "This  is  Mr.  Morgan's  chef  d'oeuvre. 
It  is  intended  as  a  memorial,  — memories  sacrum, 
sacred  to  the  memory  of  single  Avomen,  and  to  the 
great  army  of  female  philanthropists.  At  its  first 
delivery,  though  but  half  completed,  Mr.  Morgan 
was  offered  the  amount  of  the  whole  debt  on  his 
church,  and  the  expense  of  a  trip  to  Europe,  if  he 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  431 

• 

would  negotiate  the  profits  of  it  for  a  year.  It 
was  delivered  in  Boston  Music  Hall,  Sept.  7th, 
1873,  to  over  3,000  persons." 

The  Post  reports  :  "  Judging  by  the  three  thou- 
sand tickets  taken  at  Music  Hall,  for  Rev.  Henry 
Morgan's  new  lecture,  and  by  the  rapturous  ap- 
plause elicited,  Mr.  Morgan's  fame  as  a  lecturer  is 
on  the  increase.  Seldom  has  a  man  been  found, 
who,  starting  in  the  lowest  walks  of  life,  teaching 
news-boys  and  street  gamins  in  a  ward-room,  and 
preaching  to  the  vicious,  could  suddenly  rise  and 
lill  the  largest  and  most  popular  hall  in  a  large 
city,  with  an  enthusiastic  and  paying  audience,  and 
this  to  do  again  and  again,  with  increasing  interest. 
First,  Mr.  Morgan  has  won  the  hearts  of  Boston 
by  his  philanthropic  labors  ;  then  he  has  the  elo- 
quence to  hold  them." 

From  the  Daily  News  :  —  " '  This  evening  I  pro- 
pose to  spend  with  "Old  Maids."  I  have  no  inten- 
tions, no  designs.  (Laughter.)  My  motives  are 
single, —  single  as  bachelors'  motives  generally  are. 
I  am  astonished  at  this  great  audience  ;  astonished 
at  the  attractiveness  of  old  maids.  "Old  Maids" 
draw  —  they  fill  the  house  —  they  replenish  the 
treasury  ;  I  rather  like  Old  Maids  on  this  account. 
(Laughter.)  They  are  the  salt  of  the  earth  — 
magnets  of  attraction — pinks  of  perfection!  Pity 
that  some  of  us  hadn't  discovered  this  fact  before  ! 


432  SHADOWY    HAND  ;    OR 

• 

"'Hark  to  their  accusers  !  Accusers  being  judges, 
What  is  their  verdict?  Why,  that  "  Old  Maids" 
are  the  only  incarnation,  of  the  gospel,  —  the  only 
angels  left  on'earth.  Is  a  young  woman  remark- 
ably neat  and  tidy,  exact  and  precise,  particularly 
resented  toward  the  other  sex,  averse,  to  coquetry, 
to  flirtation, —  she  has  all  the  traits  of  u  confirmed, 
imperturbable  Old  Maid  !  Is  she  irugal  in  her 
expenses,  neat  and  exact  in  her  domestic  concerns  ; 
does  the  cat  have  a  cushion,  the  canary-bird  a 
bathing-dish,  and  does  the  dog  express  his  grati- 
tude every  time  he  comes  to  her  door  ?  Sad  thought ! 
that  humanity  of  hers  is  the  sure  characteristic  of 
an  Old  Maid.  Does  she  keep  herself  unspotted 
from  the  world,  has  she  lived  for  the  benefit  of 
others,  blessed  every  charily,  died  leaving  her 
effects  for  benevolent  purposes,  still  she  is  refused 
absolution  fr-  m  the  "unpardonable  sin  "of  being  an 
Old  Maid,  and  this,  too,  in  States  where  there  are 
twenty  thousand  more  females  than  males,  and  in 
Massachusetts,  where  there  are  fifty  thousand 
more. 

* '  How  can  all  get  husbands  ?  How,  unless  they 
remove  to  Utah,  join  Brigham  Young,  and  share 
with  his  sixteen  wives  and  sixty-four  children? 
(Laughter. )  Latter  Day  Saints  are  the  only  saints 
that  can  solve  the  social  problem,  and  give  cvciy 
woman  a  husband,  or  at  least  the  sixteenth  part  of 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  433 

one.  The  class  I  plead  for  desire  the  whole  of  a 
husband,  or  none,  and  a  whole  man  at  that.  They 
don't  believe,  with  Brigham,  in  seventy-husband 
power.  (Laughter.) 

' '  Seven  Reasons  why  Old  Maids  have  not  Mar- 
ried.—  Some  cling  to  family  name,— don't  want 
to  merge  into  the  Smith  family.  Some  prize  their 
beauty  too  highly, —  don't  find  a  purchaser.  Some 
are  too  literary.  Literary  women  should  not 
marry ;  Mrs.  Hemans  found  the  feeding  of  five 
hungry  boys  uncongenial  to  her  tastes ;  Mrs. 
Sigourney  was  unhappy  in  her  domestic  relations ; 
Mrs.  Faun}*-  Kemble  preferred  to  be  the  heroine 
of  her  own  tragedy,  w  Francis  the  First,"  than  to  be 
Mrs.  Butler  the  Second ;  Hannah  More,  Miss 
Edge  worth,  Miss  Sedgwick,  whose  books  have 
made  the  world  better  than  they  found  it,  did  well 
to  remain  single  ;  the  same  may  be  said  of  Alice 
and  Phoebe  Gary,  Louisa  Alcott,  Elizabeth  Phelps, 
Emily  Faithful,  and  many  others.  These  are  wed- 
ded to  their  works.  Like  Michael  Augelo,  they 
say,  "Our  works  shall  be  our  children."  Miss 
Herschel  was  too  much  absorbed  in  the  stars  for 
"  sparks  "  below  ;  Miss  Mitchell  preferred  comets 
to  bachelors  ;  Anna  Dickinson  wouldn't  hitch  on 
even  to  a  Senator ;  Miss  Susan  B.  Anthony,  the 
Bismarck  of  the  strong-minded,  who  plans  cam- 
paigns, heads  the  charge,  leads  the  immortal  fif- 
23 


434  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR 

teen  at  Rochester,  and  charges  on  the  ballot-bos 
—  the  John  Brown  of  woman's  rebellion —  tried, 
condemned,  condemned  without  a  jury  of  her 
peers,  lined,  imprisoned,  all  this  by  man.  Miss 
Anthony  marry?  Marry  a  man!  No,  never! 
unless  an  executioner.  Then  all  the  tyrant  men 
should  have  one  neck,  placed  on  one  block,  and 
she  hold  the  axe.  Then  she  would  persuade  them. 
(Laughter.)  Some  are  too  religious  ;  these  are 
the  Ann  Lees,  Ann  Ilutchiiisons,  the  Joans  of 
Arc,  that  have  set  the  world  on  fire  with  religious 
enthusiasm.  Some  are  too  much  absorbed  in 
philanthropic  work,. —  Florence  Nightingale,  Miss 
Barton,  Miss  Carpenter,  Dorothy  Dix.  Some 
have  no  knack  to  win  a  lover.  Lovers  are  often 
fools,  caught  with  chaff.  How  to  win  them  is  an 
art.  For  twenty-five  cents  let  me.  show  you. 
You  can't  buy  a  lover  out  and  out  for  that  money. 
(Laughter.)  Some,  however,  are  not  worth  more 
than  a  quarter.'  (Renewed  laughter.) 

'*  Mr.  Morgan  comically  portrayed  a  scene  of 
Jove  winning,  which  elicited  great  merriment 
and  applause.  '  Some  are  broken-hearted.  Of 
all  the  treasures,  heart  treasures  are  the  most 
sacred ;  of  all  robbers  and  murderers,  heart  rob- 
bers and  heart  murderers  are  the  most  contempt- 
ible ;  such  a  man  1  would  hang  on  the  gallows  of 
public  contempt,  higher  than  Hainan.  (Applause. ) 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  435 

Some  arc  too  modest ;  modest  little  violets  bid  in 
the  lowland  meadow.  Some  are  too  bold,  too 
touguey :  they  rattle  like  an  alarm-clock ;  they 
make  a  soldier  of  a  man,  if  he  will  only  enlist.' 
The  speaker  related  how  'Bartholomew'  enlisted, 
and  '  Zeke '  was  made  to  travel  faster.  (Roars  of 
laughter.)  'Som'ji  have  waited  too  long,  skipped 
just  one  too  many.  There  are  no  Old  Maids  here 
to-night,  but  some  that  will  be.  Some  are  too 
precise,  too  fastidious,  too  particular.'  Mr.  Mor- 
gan, in  relating  his  first  exploit  in  defence  of  Old 
Maids  at  the  footlights,  while  preaching  in  a  Bos- 
ton theatre,  and  stating  he  would  defend  them  for- 
ever, brought  down  the  house.  He  said, — 'In 
honor  of  Old  Maids,  I  would  gather  all  the  acts  of 
kindness  they  have  performed,  all  the  slippers, 
neckties,  handkerchiefs  they  have  given  to  young 
ministers,  all  the  Dorcas  garments  they  have  made, 
all  the  bed-quilts,  stockings,  tidies,  crochet,  all  the 
cradles  they  have  rocked,  all  the  babies  they  have 
tended  (I  mean  other  people's  babies),  and  build 
them  ip.i:o  a  castle  of  defiance.  What  then? 
Why,  I  would  shoot  the  first  Old  Bachelor,  or  any 
accuser,  that  dare  to  storm  the  fortress  !  (Laugh- 
ter.) Furthermore,  within  that  castle  wall  I 
would  erect  a  monument  to  single  women  that 
should  outshine  the  fame  of  heroes.  This  should 
be  its  inscription:  "These  arc  the  hundred  and 


436  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

forty-four  thousand,  who  came  up  through  great 
tribulation,  having  their  robes  washed  in  the  Blood 
of  the  Lamb.  These  are  they  which  follow  the 
Lamb  whithersoever  He  goeth,  and  in  their  mouth 
is  found  no  guile ;  they  are  undefiled,  for  they  are 
Virgins." ' " 

"Then  Mr.  Morgan  quoted  from  the  grand  old 
Fairy  Tale  of  the  Alhambra  the  story  of  the 
Enchanted  City  silent  as  if  petrified  —  changed  to 
stone.  There  lay  the  bride  in  her  wedding-dress, 
surrounded  by  her  ladies  of  honor  —  the  rich 
pink  of  beauty  upon  her  cheek  in  the  sleep  of  a 
thousand  years.  The  lacqueys  slumber  on  the 
staircases,  and  the  waiting-maids  lie,  as  if  dead, 
clustered  in  the  ante-chamber.  There  stands  the 
war-horse,  with  nostril  distended,  caparisoned  for 
battle.  There  stands  the  warrior,  his  stone  hand 
on  the  mane  of  that  petrified  horse.  All  is  still, 
lifeless,  death-like.  JVbio  is  heard  the  clarion 
blast  of  the  Resurrection  Trumpet  ringing  through 
the  clear,  cold  atmosphere.  As  it  sounds,  men 
spring  to  life.  The  bridegroom  rushes  through 
the  portcullis  which  opens  at  his  approach.  The 
ladies  of  the  Court  awake,  and  look  inquiringly 
on  each  other.  The  staircase  rings  to  the  hurried 
footsteps  of  the  bold  prince  rushing  to  his  blush- 
ing bride.  The  war-horse,  with  fiery  breath  and 
flashing  eye,  shakes  his  mane,  paws  the  earth,  and 


UFE-STRUGGLES.  437 

"leaps  -with  life  !  The  benumbed  warrior  feels  the 
thrill  of  enchantment.  At  the  battle-neigh  of 
that  noble  charger,  he  strikes  his  hand  upon  the 
neck,  seizes  the  reins,  vaults  to  the  saddle,  and, 
with  levelled  lance  and  bugle-notes,  rides  forth  to 
Victory  ! 

n Moral. — "This  story  represents  the  Temperance 
cause.  The  bones  of  the  slain  lie  cold  in  death ; 
the  hopes  of  the  living  are  petrified, — turned  to 
stone.  Humanity  stands  aghast,  and  shudders  at 
the  spectacle  !  Two  hundred  victims  buried  each 
day ;  twenty  have  died  while  I  am  now  speaking ; 
sixty  thousand  a  year,  —  what  an  army  !  Churches 
have  lost  their  zeal ;  newspapers  dare  not  give  the 
alarm ;  politicians  have  proved  treacherous  ;  pub- 
lic opinion  sleeps ;  moral  forces  are  congealed, 
and  the  hearts  of  the  people  seem  silent.  Hark  ! 
A  voice  from  Ohio  !  It  is  the  trumpet-tone  of 
suffering,  praying,  weeping  Woman.  It  thunders 
with  the  voice  of  God.  To  the  rescue  !  To  the 
rescue !  O  ye  women  of  America !  Bow  the 
knee  ;  pour  forth  the  prayer  ;  make  the  earnest 
appeal ;  sing  the  psalm  of  triumph ;  press  for- 
ward to  victory,  untill  the  stocks  and  stones  cry 
out,  the  castles  of  Drunkenness  yield,  and  Intem- 
perance is  banished  from  the  land.  Hark  again  I 
Men  of  America !  Hear  the  trumpet-sound  of 
reform  I  Awake  I  Awake  I  The  steeds  of 


438  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

heavenly  promise  are  at  your  door ;  they  are' 
neighing  for  battle.  Up !  up  !  to  the  rescue ! 
Mount  the  fleet  charger  of  present  Opportunity ; 
leap  to  the  saddle  of  Hope ;  seize  the  reins  of 
Prayer ;  strike  deep  the  spur  of  holy  enthusiasm  ; 
level  the  lance  of  God's  Truth,  and,  amid  the 
plaudits  of  redeemed  millions,  rush  to  victory, 
adding  victory  to  victory,  until  the  last  enslaved 
drunkard  is  set  free.  When  the  victory  is  won, 
and  the  tears  of  the  widow  and  the  orphan  are 
dried  ;  when  you  gather  up  the  laurels,  —  accorded 
with  the  first  honors,  crowned  with  the  brightest 
diadem,  and  placed  on  the  highest  pedestal  of 
glory,  will  be  that  much-abused  class  of  humanity 
called  « OLD  MAIDS!""' 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  439 


CHAPTER    XLI 

Notice  of  New  Book  and  Lecture  by  the  Boston  Transcript. — 
"Shadowy  Hand"  and  "Hidden  Hand.'  —  Extracts  from 
"Hidden  Hand."  —  New  Sunday  Evening  Lecture  :  "  Sam- 
Bon."  —  Notice  from  the  Providence  Press  and  Albany  Argus. 
—  Boston  Globe  on  "Shadowy  Hand."  —  Summary  of  the 
Book.  —  Its  Romance,  its  Autobiography,  its  History  and 
Marvellous  Incidents. 

ROM  the  Boston  Transcript,  August  6th, 

1874: 
-  "Mr.  Morgan's  New  JBook  and  New 

Lecture.  — Rev.  Henry  Morgan  comes  out 
this  season  with  a  new  book  and  a  new  lecture, 
which  are  the  crowning  efforts  of  his  life.  The 
new  book,  '  Shadowy  Hand,'  a  story  of  real  life, 
gives  the  life-struggles  of  a  remarkable  career.  A 
larger  sale  is  predicted  for  it  than  'Ned  Nevins,' 
which  reached  over  20,000  copies  the  first  year. 

"His  new  lecture,  entitled  'Hidden  Hand  ;  Pul- 
pit and  the  Stage,'  is  the  fruit  of  a  lifetime.  Mr. 
Morgan's  whole  life  has  been  the  study  of  elo- 
quence. On  the  plantation,  in  the  prisons,  in  the 
backwoods,  among  the  news-boys,  with  'thousands 
upon  thousands'  in  Boston  Music  Hall,  and  Cooper 
Institute,  New  York,  his  triumphs  have  no»  cul- 
minated in  the  'Pulpit  and  the  Stage.' 


440  SHADOWY  HAND;   OR, 

"  His  lecture  on  *  Fast  Young  Men '  has  been 
repeated  more  than  200  times,  has  bought  a  church 
now  worth  $80,000,  and  given  Mr.  Morgan  his 
reputation,  but  did  not  suit  all  classes,  was  not 
always  a  success. 

"His  new  lecture,  'Hidden  Hand,'  is  adapted 
to  any  audience,  as  it  strikes  the  hearts  of  all. 
It  is  not  Tom  Taylor's  drama,  'Hidden  Hand,' 
with  the  poisoned  cup,  nor  the  '  Hidden  Hand '  of 
Mrs.  Southworth's  Capitola,  but  the  'hiding 
of  God's  power  in  soul-forces.'  We  give  an 
extract : 

"  *  Eloquence  is  divine  ;  passion  is  power ;  power 
is  of  God.  All  hearts  are  stirred  by  genuine 
eloquence.  Touch  the  springs  of  human  passion, 
and  you  touch  the  stars  !  Touch  the  fountains  of 
joy  and  sorrow,  and  you  reach  heaven !  Strike 
Nature's  secret  springs,  and  whether  from  pulpit 
or  stage,  the  world  responds  I  Christians  have 
strong  prejudice  against  the  drama,  yet  the  drama 
had  a  religious  origin.  It  is  found  in  all  the  relig- 
ious rites  of  ancient  nations.  The  modern  drama 
originated  in  the  exhibition  of  miracles  and  relig- 
ious mysteries.  Priests  and  monks  were  the  chief 
performers.  When  the  drama  was  usurped  by 
strolling  vagrants,  it  fell  into  disrepute. 

" '  Both  the  pulpit  and  the  stage  are  moulded  by 
the  times .  In  Puritanic  times  the  people  demanded 


LIFE-STRUGGLES .  441 

the  tragic ;  in  time  of  Charles  II.  the  ludicrous, 
the  comic  ;  ia  our  time,  the  effeminate,  the  weak, 
the  trashy.  The  time  was  when  the  pulpit  swayed 
men's  consciences ;  they  bowed  to  the  fiat  of  the 
preacher  as  to  fate.  Now,  many  of  the  pulpits 
are  silent  on  the  great  sins  of  the  age.  We  wor- 
ship not  the  God  of  glory,  but  of  gold ;  not  the 
King  of  Heaven,  but  the  "Money  King."  ' 

"  The  speaker  then  presented  two  styles  of  pul- 
pit eloquence  :  one  by  an  English  exquisite,  the 
other  by  a  Yankee  Revivalist.  Also  negro  preach- 
ing in  Georgia.  *  Going  up,  leapin,'  sailin,'  on'ard 
up'ard,  higher,  higher,  —  O,  Lord  a-massy,  leans 
go  no  f udder  1 "  (Laughter.) 

"He  then  gave  humorous  sketches  of  'Pulpit 
Eccentricities ' :  Lorenzo  Dow  with  the  stolen 
axe ;  Peter  Cartwright  making  his  antagonist 
pray  under  water ;  Bishop  Asbury  declaring,  'The 
devil  and  the  women  will  get  all  my  preachers  ! ' 
Whitefield  crying,  '  Fire  !  fire  ! '  Rowland  Hill 
shouting,  *  Matches  !  matches  ! ' 

"  He  contrasted  the  pulpit  with  the  stage,  pre- 
sented Garrick  acting  before  the  Bishop,  and  Gar- 
rick  in  the  crazed  character  of  King  Lear,  with 
his  crown  of  straw  falling  from  his  brow.  He 
depicted  Buhver's  Cardinal  Richelieu,  exclaiming, 
'  I  am  the  State  !  Richelieu  and  France  are  one  I ' 
—  Charlotte  Cushmau  in  Lady  Macbeth;  Mrs. 


442  SHADOWY    HAND  ;    OR, 

Siddons  representing  madness,  and  driving  men 
out  of  their  wits ;  Edmund  Kean  uttering  the 
'  curse '  of  Lear,  and,  at  his  last  performance  in 
Othello,  crying, '  Villain,  never  pray  more  ! '  when 
he  fell  exhausted,  and  was  borne  from  the  stage 
to  die ;  Edwin  Forrest's  violence  in  the  *  Gladia- 
tor' and  in  'Jack  Cade,'  and  Macready's  cool- 
ness and  classical  finish.  These  portrayals  elicited 
repeated  applause. 

"  In  presenting  the  *  staginess  of  the  stage '  (the- 
atrical affectation) ,  the  gesture,  the  look,  the  strut, 
the  walk,  the  simulated  grief  and  rage,  tears  and 
despair,  the  manufactured  thunder,  the  pop-gun 
climax  of  horror,  the  pre-arranged  plans  where  to 
fall,  when  and  how  to  die,  — in  these  the  speaker 
brought  down  the  house  with  applause  and  merri- 
ment. 

"While  allowing  the  stage  its  true  place,  repre- 
senting some  of  the  noblest  of  characters  and  the 
highest  passions  of  men,  piling  '  Olympus  on  Ossa 
and  Ossa  on  Pelion,'  the  pulpit  presents  a 
field  for  higher  eloquence,  deeper  conviction,  and 
more  lasting  impressions.  The  preacher,  with 
single,  unaided  voice,  may  rouse  an  audience  into 
higher  rapture  than  the  united  efforts  of  twenty 
performers,  with  star  actor,  scenic  effects,  and 
orchestra  combined. 

w  One  preacher  like  Whitefield  transcends  them 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  443 

all.  "VYhitefield's  portrayal  of  Christ's  agony,  the 
meltings  of  mercy,  the  terrors  of  judgment;  his 
talking  with  Abraham  in  heaven ;  his  stopping 
Gabriel  on  his  heavenly  mission ;  his  compelling 
Lord  Chesterfield  to  cry,  'He's  lost!  7^e's  lost!' 
his  forcing  Franklin  to  empty  his  pockets  of  their 
gold,  and  the  assassin  to  drop  the  stone  aimed  at 
Whiten* eld's  head  ;  his  preaching,  weeping,  pray- 
ing, and  exclaiming,  '  Oh  ! '  in  a  manner  that  made 
Garrick  offer  100  guineas  to  do  the  like,  —  these 
scenes,  acted  to  the  life,  made  Whitefield  the  prince 
of  preachers,  and  superior  to  all  actors. 

"  The  above  abstract  conveys  but.  a  slight  idea 
of  the  popular  effect  of  this,  Mr.  Morgan's  grand- 
est lecture,  in  which  preachers  and  actors,  play- 
goers and  theatre  opposers,  are  alike  interested. 
Calls  for  its  delivery  are  already  being  received 
from  distant  States." 

Samson. — The  last  new  lecture,  "Samson," 
is  adapted  for  Sunday  evening  delivery.  The 
Providence  Press  thus  reports  :  "  A  lajge  audience 
listened  with  interest  and  attention  to  Mr.  Mor- 
gan's lecture  on  Samson,  at  the  Opera  House, 
last  evening.  His  ready  flow  of  speech,  alter- 
nating, now  in  the  merry  mood,  then  in  the  sar- 
castic, and  often  pathetic,  carried  his  listeners  with 
him  at  his  will.  He  reviewed  Salvini's  play  of 
Samson  somewhat  sharply,  and  was  at  a  loss  to 


444  .SHADOWY  HAND;  OB, 

know  why  the  strong  man  should  be  represented 
as  having  been  shorn  of  his  strength  through  the 
influence  of  the  cup,  there  being  no  record  to 
warrant  it,  He  closed  with  an  earnest  appeal  to 
those  who  had  strayed  from  the  path  of  rectitude, 
to  return,  and  by  a  renewal  of  their  determina- 
tion to  serve  God,  and  receive  the  forgiveness  so 
earnestly  sought  by  the  subject  of  his  discourse." 

The  Albany  Argus  says  :  "  Mr.  Morgan's  imper- 
sonation of  the  Giant  Man  struggling  against  the 
wiles  of  a  wicked  woman,  his  strength,  his  weak- 
ness, his  firm  resolve  to  keep  his  Nazarite  vow 
inviolate  at  all  hazard,  his  semi-confession,  his 
betrayal,  his  breaking  the  cords  and  the  withes, 
his  yielding  at  last,  his  fall,  his  remorse,  and  his 
despair, —  these  were  graphically  portrayed,  and 
awakened  intense  feeling.  His  renewed  vow,  his 
penitence,  prayer,  and  triumphant  death,  pointed 
one  of  the  grandest  morals  ever  presented  to  fal- 
len man." 

The  Springfield  Republican  says,  it  was  "gen- 
uinely pathetic.1" 

The  Union  says  :  "  Mr.  Morgan  may  be  sure  of 
a  full  house  in  Springfield,  after  such  success  as 
he  achieved  by  his  'Samson.' 

:"  MORAL. — Young  man,  if  once  betrayed,  now 
escape  !  Escape  for  thy  life  !  Eenew  thy  baptismal 
vow !  Like  Samson,  die  victoriously  !  Die  the 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  445 

death  of  the  righteous  !  In  the  valley  and  shadow 
of  death,  seize  the  pillars  of  doubt;  grapple  with 
the  powers  of  darkness,  and  come  off  more  than 
conqueror,  shouting,  Victory!  Victory!" 

From  the  Boston  Daily  Globe,  Aug.  17,  1874  : 
"  Mr.  Morgan's  f  Shadowy  Hand.1  —  The  Rev. 
Henry  Morgan  announces  for  this  season  a  new 
book,  'Shadowy  Hand,'  450  pages,  illustrated. 
A  true  picture  of  'life-struggles,'  it  is  a  splendid 
contribution  to  the  history  of  '  self-help.'  It  will 
stimulate  many  a  struggling  youth  to  perseverance, 
rehearsing  the  motto,  — 


1  With  God  to  speed  the  right, 
There's  no  such  word  as  fail.' 


w  The  author  sketches  a  thrilling  picture  of  an 
earnest  life.  Reared  in  poverty  at  the  '  Old  Store ' 
in  Newtown,  Conn.,  struggling  for  an  education, 
becoming  teacher  and  preacher  at  last,  his  study 
of  eloquence  among  prisoners,  in  almshouses,  on 
the  mountains,  by  the  roar  of  Niagara,  among 
slaves  on  plantations,  and  in  the  popular  halls  of 
large  cities,  make  up  a  life  of  rare  interest.  A 
chapter  devoted  to  the  grand  scenery  of  Virginia 
brings  before  the  eye  the  Peaks  of  Otter,  Mount 
Vernon,  Cedar  Creek,  and  the  variety  of  prospec- 
tive seen  by  day  and  night,  incidents  of  the  nat- 


446  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

ural  bridge,  and  scenes  in  the  lives  of  John  Ran- 
cjolph  and  Patrick  Henry. 

"Romance  flits  across  its  pages,  alternating  like 
the  tears  and  laughter  of  a  child  with  narratives 
painful  and  sad.  Few  are  the  stories -in  fiction 
that  exceed  the  pathos  of  the  romantic  attachment 
between  'Ostee'  and  '  Veolia,'  the  Indian  maid  of 
the  Shenandoah,  and  their  untimely  end  !  His 
would  be  a  stony  heart,  indeed,  whose  eyes  could 
read,  unmoistened,  the  narration  of  the  deserted 
widow  about  to  part  with  her  child,  sought  for 
adoption  by  strangers.  When  the  moment  came, 
she  cried  :  '  Cling  to  my  neck,  Julia  !  let  those  be 
mothers  whom  God  makes  mothers.  Never  will 
I  part  with  thee  ! ' 

"The  effect  of  a  child's  eloquence,  when  wife's 
and  pastor's  efforts  have  failed  to  succeed,  is  also 
fiiiety  told. 

"The  author's  experience  borders  on  the  romantic, 
and  we  might  say,  the  marvellous.  In  sickness  and 
distress,  messengers  of  Heaven  seemed  sent  to  him. 
On  one  occasion,  a  robin  was  the  angel  of  hope  to 
his  despondency,  singing  at  his  window  in  the 
midst  of  the  storm,  shaking  off  the  rain-drops, 
then  louder  sounding  its  notes  of  song.  This 
inspired  Mr.  Morgan  to  make  one  more  effort  for 
a  foothold  in  Boston,  and  he  succeeded.  On 
another  occasion,  a  white  dove,  during  a  funeral 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  447 

service,  came  flitting. into  the  church,  lighting 
upon  the  pulpit,  a  harbinger  of  peace,  while  Mr. 
Morgan  lay  nigh  unto  death.  Two  chapters  are 
given  to  this  occurence. 

"  The  magic  influences  of  a  mother's  f  Shadowy 
Hand,'  which  give  title  to  the  book,  are  also  sig- 
nificant. The  lovers  of  sensation  take  their  fill  of 
horrors  from  the  *  Scott  Case,'  a  sad  history  of 
woman's  suffering  in  an  Insane  Asylum.  And  the 
aged,  for  none  are  overlooked,  have  a  whole  chap- 
ter to  themselves  on  that  most  interesting  occasion 
of  the  testimonial  service  to  Father  Cleveland  and 
the  aged  in  Morgan  Chapel.  Colonel  Cowdin, 
and  Massachusetts  First  Regiment,  receive  atten- 
tion. 

"Mr.  Morgan's  previous  work,  'Ned  Nevins,' 
met  with  a  sale  of  over  20,000  copies  the  first 
year.  It  is  expected  that  the  '  Shadowy  Hand  ' 
will  surpass  even  this.  This  book,  together  with 
his  new  lecture, 'Hidden  Hand;  Pulpit  and  the 
Stage,'  to  be  delivered  in  September,  in  Boston 
Music  Hall,  is  considered  his  crowning  effort.  It 
is,  in  fact,  the  study  of  a  lifetime.  Both  '  Shad- 
owy Hand '  and  '  Hidden  Hand  '  will  be  given  to 
the  public  in  September.'* 

Notices  from  the  Press,  on  "Fast  Young 
Men"  : 

"Tweedle  Hall  was  filled,  packed,  jammed  last 


448  SHADOWY  HAND. 

evening ;  this  may  seem  strange,  but  it  is  literally 
true.  Old  and  young,  rich  and  poor,  high  and 
low,  gray-beards  and  boys,  young  men  and 
misses,  were  present  to  hear  the  reverend  speaker." 
—  Argus. ' 

"  The  rush  for  tickets  to  Rev.  Henry  Morgan's 
lecture  in  Tweedle  Hall  last  evening,  was  unpre- 
cedented. Many  of  the  intelligent  and  respect- 
able were  debarred  the  privilege  of  hearing  him, 
as  it  was  found,  at  last,  that  none  but  the  able- 
bodied  could  endure  the  pressure."  —  Albany 
Express. 

"At  times  the  jam  was  fearful,  crowding  in  the 
doors  of  the  adjoining  piano-rooms,  when  the 
police  were  called.  Those  having  reserved  seats 
found  it  difficult  to  enter  the  hall,  and  some  gave 
up  the  contest."  —  Knickerbocker . 


LIFE-STBTJGGLES.  449 


CHAPTER   XLII. 

Fifth  Thousand.  —  Chapter  on  the  Critics,  favorable  and 
unfavorable. — Who  assails  the  Book?  —  Plea  for  Sensation. 
—  Proposition  to  my  Assailants. — Will  sell  Church,  and 
place  fifty  Men  in  the  Field,  if  they  will  give  the  Gospel  a 
fair  Trial  for  one  Year. 


F 

IX  weeks  have  elapsed  since  the  publica- 
tion of  "  Shadowy  Hand."  Through 
storms  of  adverse  criticism  it  has  reached 
its  fifth  thousand.  It  has  been  unexpect- 
edly assailed  by  both  pulpit  and  press. 
"  Sensationalism,"  "  self-puffery,"  "  paid  enco- 
miums," "burlesque  in  the  pulpit,"  "pious  hum- 
bug," and  kindred  epithets,  have  been  heaped 
upon  it.  In  consequence  of  which  some  of  my 
appointments  to  lecture  have  been  cancelled ;  my 
name  has  been  a  byword  of  contempt.  While 
professed  infidels  and  free-thinkers  are  upheld  and 
welcomed  to  the  platform  before  a  religious  body, 
one  called  a  "  sensationalist "  must  hot  be  toler- 
ated. This  shows  that  frozen  orthodoxy  and  open 
infidelity  are  not  far  apart ;  they  go  hand  in  hand. 
I  had  an  appointment  to  lecture  at  Colby  Uni- 
versity. Zion's  Advocate  of  Portland,  on  learning 
Q£  the  fact,  gave  the  following :  —  "  We  cannot 


450  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

but  express  our  amazement  that  the  students  of 
Colby  University  have  given  a  place  in  their 
series  of  lectures  to  Henry  Morgan.  If  the  public 
will  hear  Mr.  Morgan,  very  well ;  but  we  did  not 
suppose  that  the  students  in  any  of  our  colleges 
would  give  encouragement  to  cheap  sensation- 
alism." 

As  this  was  the  organ  of  the  college,  my  ap- 
pointment was  annulled;  the  president  of  the 
college  at  the  same  time  caused  to  be  published  in 
a  Boston  journal,  —  "  Lest  the  announcement  in 
your  columns,  that  Rev.  Henry  Morgan  will  lec- 
ture in  the  course  to  be  delivered  under  the 
auspices  of  the  students  of  Colby  University  may 
be  regarded  as  an  endorsement  by  them,  will 
you  please  say  that  Mr.  Morgan  will  not  lecture  in 
the  course." 

The  following  is  from  .the  Watchman  and  Re- 
flector: —  "The  members  of  the  Literary  Frater- 
nity of  Colby  University,  however,  thinking  that 
the  attack  on  Mr.  Morgan  was  uncalled  for,  and 
believing  in  fair  play,  determined  that  he  should 
have  a  hearing.  He  accordingly  gave  his  lecture, 
'  Hidden  Hand ;  Pulpit  and  the  Stage,'  in  the 
Baptist  church ;  and,  at  the  urgent  request  of  the 
students,  gave  his  second  lecture,  'Why  Men 
don't  marry,'  on  the  following  evening,  when  the 
house  was  crowded.  Both  lectures  were  lug  My 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  451 

appreciated  by  the  people  generally,  and  decidedly 
successful  in  every  way,  netting  the  society  a 
handsome  sum,  and  gaining  Mr.  Morgan  many 
warm  friends  in  Waterville."  Afterwards  the 
students  unanimously  voted  to  tender  me  a  series 
of  complimentary  resolves,  "recognizing  in  Mr. 
Morgan  an  effective  and  earnest  laborer  in  the 
cause  of  humanity." 

This  same  cry  against  "  sensationalism "  was 
raised  when  I  was  lecturing  in  Cooper  Institute, 
New  York,  by  an  old  school  divine,  —  Dr.  Prime 
of  the  New-York  Observer.  He  also  cited  Dr. 
Christleib.  His  criticism  was  copied  in  nearly  all 
the  religious  journals,  and  republished  in  every 
large  city  where  I  was  about  to  lecture. 

This  is  my  reply.  Sir :  Sensation  is  the  key- 
note of  reform.  Without  sensation  there  can  be 
no  great  achievement.  Sensation  is  the  plow- 
share of  the  future  harvest.  "  Agitate !  agitate  !  " 
is  the  talisman  of  progress.  No-  reform  has  ever 
been  achieved  except  by  the  agitation  of  ideas. 
Creeds  and  institutions  get  turf-bound ;  like  fruit- 
trees,  they  need  slitting  and  rasping.  Skepticism 
is  like  the  grubs  beneath  the  bark ;  it  needs  the 
rasp  of  reform.  The  hour  has  come.  Hark  I 
This  cry  against  sensation !  What  is  it  ?  What 
does  it  mean  ?  Ah,  sir,  "  the  iron  hath  probed  the 
glebe.*'  The  crickets  are  jumping  from  the  furrow ; 


452  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

the  moles  and  the  mice  are  leaving  their  nests. 
Reform's  plowshare  has  already  struck  the  dry 
roots  and  turf  of  old  ideas.  Oceans  of  scientific 
thought  are  surging  against  the  sand-bars  of  the 
dead  past.  Old  landmarks  are  shifting.  Theo- 
logical theories  and  castles  of  ancient  conceit  are 
crumbling !  Self-constituted  hierarchies  are  fall- 
ing !  "  Stand  from  under!  "  is  the  cry.  "  Progress 
is  the  watchword  of  the  hour ! "  "I  will  over- 
turn, overturn,  overturn,  saith  the  Lord." 

The  worship  that  has  heart  in  it  need  not  fear 
the  assaults  of  skepticism.  Heartless  preachers 
are  the  moths  and  grubs  to  the  church  hive. 
Honey-bees  cannot  expel  them,  but  they  can  seek 
a  new  hive.  Heartless  preaching  is  making  more 
infidels  than  all  the  scientists  combined. 

The  religion  that  can  meet  the  wants  of  man- 
kind, take  the  vices  out  of  a  man,  —  the  swearing, 
the  drinking,  the  licentiousness,  —  and  make  him 
honest,  noble,  upright,  God-like !  That  religion 
need  not  tremble  at  skepticism;  it  can  stand 
against  the  combined  infidelity  of  the  world. 

There  is  great  prejudice  against  what  is  called 
"  sensationalism ; "  yet  live  religion  must  be  sensa- 
tional. David  was  sensational  when  he  danced  be- 
fore the  Lord.  Jesus  Christ  was  sensational  when 
he  wept  over  Jerusalem.  Angels  are  supposed  to 
be  sensational ;  they  rejoice  over  repenting  siniiers. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  453 

When  the  foundations  of  the  world  were  laid,  the 
inspired  poet  says,  "  The  morning  stars  sang  to- 
gether, and  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy ! " 
I  affirm  that  the  pulpit  should  be  sensational,  and 
not  a  tombstone.  Tombstones  preach  to  dead 
folks.  Want  of  heart  has  already  killed  the 
reformation  in  Germany.  Yet  you  quote,  sir,  a 
German  theologian  as  my  censor,  —  a  man  knowing 
nothing  of  the  American  Idea.  His  condemnation 
of  the  applause  of  "  thousands  upon  thousands  "- 
in  Boston  Music  Hall,  ought  to  be.  to  my  honor, 
rather  than  discredit. 

You  say  I  was  "bold,  blatant,  impetuous." 
The  same  might  be  said  of  Knox,  Luther,  and 
Whitefield,  —  greatest  of  preachers.  You  speak 
of  "burlesque  in  the  pulpit."  What  can  be  a 
greater  burlesque  than  the  insincerity  of  many 
men  of  your  profession?  You  profess  that  the 
salvation  of  a  soul  is  worth  every  thing,  —  worth 
more  than  a  kingdom;  that  a  lost  soul  is  the 
greatest  of  all  losses.  Yet  how  indifferent! 
What  zeal  do  you  exhibit  ?  What  agony  for  the 
lost  ?  What  groans,  sighs,  and  bitter  tears  ?  Ah  I 
sir,  is  not  this  burlesque  indeed  ? 

You  hint  at  "something  like  communism,  flings 
at  respectable  pulpits  and  rich  congregations." 
I  confess  to  the  charge.  Christ  was  thus  charged. 
We  worship  not  the  God  of  glory,  but  of  gold. 


454  SHADOWY  HAND;    OK, 

Not  the  king  of  heaven,  but  the  money  king. 
Wealth  holds  the  pew;  it  muzzles  the  pulpit- 
With  a  carpenter  for  its  founder,  fishermen  for  its 
disciples,  a  tent-maker  for  its  chief  apostle,  gospel 
preaching  has  now  become  aristocratic  and  exclu- 
sive. Where  is  the  church  that  would  welcome 
the  working-man  in  his  blouse  ? 

Hear  it,  oh  ye  preachers !  Unless  the  laboring 
man  rind's  a  gospel  that  will  give  him  social  equal- 
ity, and  unloose  the  heavy  burden,  and  pronounce 
for  manhood-sovereignty,  soul-recognition,  and 
soul-equality  before  God,  irrespective  of  class, 
caste,  cloth,  or  gold,  he  will  stay  at  home; 
churches  will  be  deserted.  Now  I  ask,  what  is 
your  sect  or  church  doing  for  the  masses  ?  —  "  hete- 
rogeneous masses,"  called  in  derision  ?  Where  are 
the  great  congregations  of  the  poor  ?  Does  your 
manner  of  preaching  reach  one  out  of  twenty 
of  the  population?  Where  the  once  great  revi- 
vals ?  Great  anniversary  occasions  ?  Where  the 
zeal,  the  deep  conviction,  the  noble  self-sacrifice, 
humility  and  charity  ? 

Shades  of  the  Puritans  !  Has  it  come  to  this  ? 
When  a  man  is  found  to  attract  non-churchgoers, 
and  gather  two  or  three  thousand  persons  on  a 
Sunday  night  in  Cooper  Institute,  right  in  sight 
of  open  shooting-galleries,  dance-halls,  lager  beer 
concerts,  Black  Crooks,  and  a  thousand  drinking- 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  455 

saloons,  all  in  full  blast,  and  constrain  that  audi- 
ence^to  respond,  almost  to  a  man,  to  every  noble 
appeal  of  moral  sentiment  for  temperance,  religion, 
humanity,  and  God,  then,  sir,  alas !  there  is  not 
wanting  an  editor  and  orthodox  divine  to  stand 
against  the  tide  ;  to  throw  himself  into  the  breach, 
and  cry  with  all  the  lamentation  of  Job,  "  My 
heart  and  my  flesh  cry  out !  Saved  by  such  meas- 
ures so  abhorrent  to  my  tastes  ?  No,  no  !  a  thousand 
times  no  !  Better  than  such  preaching  is  the  LOWEST 
GERMAN  THEATRE." 

Oh  tell  it  not  in  the  streets  of  New  York ;  pub- 
lish it  not  in  the  Bowery,  lest  the  Five  Points 
rejoice,  and  the  enemy  cry  "  ha  !  ha  !  "  You  speak 
of  the  "  indelicate  ;  "  of  ladies  covering  their  faces, 
and  applause  from  the  pit.  I  pronounce  the 
insinuation  false,  and  a  slander  upon  the  audience. 
"Evil  be  to  him  who  evil  thinks."  You  repeat, 
with  seeming  surprise,  that  "  no  pastors,  no  news- 
papers, secular  or  religious,"  had  spoken  a  word 
against  me  in  Boston.  My  answer  is  this :  "They 
know  me  !  "  You  do  not  know  me,  and  I  fear  you 
are  incapable  of  comprehending  my  motives. 

Now,  sir,  I  make  this  proposition :  If  you 
and  the  ministers  of  the  denomination  you  repre- 
sent, will  for  one  year  curtail  your  expenses, 
divide  your  salaries,  give  up  watering-places,  spend 
your  vacations  with  the  poor,  and  for  the  poor,  and 


456  SHADOWY-HAND  ;    OE, 

give  the  gospel  a  hearty  trial  for  one  year,  then  will 
I  do  it  for  a  lifetime.  I  will  not  lecture ;  I  will 
preach  the  gospel  —  the  whole  gospel,  and  nothing 
but  the  gospel  —  so  long  as  life  and  health  are 
spared  me. 

Furthermore,  if  you  will  honestly  and  consci- 
entiously promise  twelve  months  of  faithful,  zeal- 
ous labor  for  a  genuine  revival  of  God's  work  in 
the  hearts  of  men,  then  I  will  make  a  still  greater 
sacrifice.  I  will  immediately  sell  the  church  ob- 
tained by  my  lectures,  and  all  the  property  I  have, 
except  the  dwelling  I  live  in,  and,  with  the  pro- 
ceeds, place  fifty  evangelists  in  the  field  for  mis- 
sionary and  revival  work.  Yea,  I  will  gladly  do 
it,  at  a  cost  of  fifty  thousand  dollars.  Now  let  us 
try  the  experiment  for  one  year.  Who  will  say 
"  Amen  ?  " 

If  three  hundred  preachers  will  do  it  for  one 
year,  then  their  example  will  be  contagious ;  the 
flock  will  follow  the  shepherd.  A  general  awak- 
ening will  be  the  result.  New  hands  will  enter 
the  field ;  the  three  hundred  will  increase  to  more 
than  three  thousand  the  first  year.  If  they  in- 
crease in  the  same  ratio  for  ten  years,  then  the 
world's  population  will  be  met.  What  fruit  from 
the  example  and  toil  of  one  year !  What  fruit 
from  the  efforts  of  three  hundred  men  I  One 
year  of  faith,  of  sacrifice,  and  prayer !  One  year 


LITE-STRUGGLES.  457 

of  sowing  in  tears  I  One  year  of  bitter  struggle  ! 
One  year  in  threading  the  lanes  and  alleys,  and] 
treading  the  thorny  paths  of  the  Saviour !  One 
year,  —  only  just  one  year  !  —  when  he  has  suf- 
ered  so  much,  —  suffered,  bled,  and  died  for  us. 
One  short  year !  —  while  he  stands  interceding 
forever  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father. 

One  year  of  earnest  planting,  then  cometh  the 
harvest.  And  what  a  harvest !  What  blessings 
on  the  faithful  three  hundred  I  What  mourners 
will  be  comforted;  what  tears  will  be  dried; 
what  prisons  will  be  opened ;  what  families 
united ;  what  orphans  made  glad ;  what  inebriates 
reclaimed  I  What  a  millennial  of  peace  on  earth  I 
Every  countenance  shall  smile  with  joy ;  every 
wind  whisper  peace  ;  every  sunbeam  sparkle  with 
delight !  Salvation  will  be  in  every  song.  The 
tides  of  redemption  shall  sweep  into  every  corner, 
cleansing  every  pollution,  —  rising  higher  and  high- 
er with  every  flood  of  tune,  —  dashing  against  the 
citadels  of  sin,  — sweeping  them  from  their  founda- 
tions, —  and,  striking  at  last  upon  the  ROCK  OF 
AGES,  echo  as  they  fall,  "  Not  unto  us,  not  unto  us, 
but  unto  thy  name,  be  all  the  glory,  ALLELUJAH, 
ALLELUJAH  1  THE  LORD  GOD  OMNIPOTENT 
REIGNETH  I  " 


458  SHADOWY  HAND;  OK, 

NOTICES  OP  THE  PRESS. 

"  REV.  HENRY  MORGAN  is  an  eccentric  minister 
of  Boston,  who  preaches  to  heterogeneous  masses 
in  what  is  known  as  Morgan  Chapel.  For  general 
sensationalism,  frequent  coarseness,  and  elements 
often  worse,  he  probably  has  no  equal.  If  clownish- 
ness  in  the  pulpit  can  find  justification  here  it  is." 
—  Congregationalist,  Sept.  24,  1874. 

It  is  but  just  to  state  that  Dr.  Dexter  knew 
nothing  of  the  above ;  he  said  he  would  not  have 
sanctioned  it.  He  used  to  exchange  with  me  when 
he  was  pastor  of  Berkeley-street  Church,  and  always 
commended  my  work.  Except  it  might  advertise 
the  writer,  I  would  give  his  name,  and  show  how 
much  evil  a  little  stinging,  insignificant  wasp  may 
do  around  the  hive  of  industry  in  repelling  hon- 
est workers.  Yet  such  narrow-minded,  soulless, 
malignant  wasps,  stand,  like  dogs  in  the  manger, 
by  scores,  at  both  pulpit  and  press,  preaching  by 
the  minute  and  paid  by  the  line,  to  starve  the 
flock,  and  suppress  every  holy  endeavor!  "  Ho w" 
LONG  !  OH  LORD,  HOW  LONG  ! " 

"  The  reports  which  the  author  gives  of  his  ser- 
mons and  lectures  are  painfully  disgusting.  We 
stand  amazed  at  the  man  who  could  preach  the 
4  sermon '  on  the  *  Railroad  of  Life ; '  but  we  are 
more  amazed,  and  more  deeply  shocked,  when  we 
read  that  he  delivered  it  with  overwhelming 


UFB-STEUGOLES.  459 

effects  over  his  mother's  grave." —  Churchman, 
New  York  (Ritualistic). 

Such  an  organ  could  not  be  "  deeply  shocked  " 
at  the  owning  and  leasing  of  forty  grog-shops  by 
Trinity  church,  or  in  spending  the  interest  of 
seven  millions  to  foster  such  heartless  tomfoolery 
as  is  found  in  Trinity,  at  the  head  of  Wall  Street, 
every  Sunday  at  4  o'clock.  Fit  brother  of  the 
heartless  bulls  and  the  bears  of  the  gold  board. 
But  it  would  be  shocked  if  John  Wesley  should 
preach  on  his  father's  tombstone,  or  George  White- 
field  should  soil  his  gown  by  preaching  in  the 
fields. 

The  Christian  at  Work  says,  "  The  author  of 
this  book  seems  to  fear  that  he  is  the  one  Elijah 
of  his  age,  or  the  solitary  John  the  Baptist;" 
"Pious  humbug,"  &c.  Oh  dont!  Dr.  Talmage! 
Some  may  mistake ;  they  may  take  the  picture  for 
the  wrong  person. 

The  "  Danbury  News  "  man  says,  "  We  cannot 
conscientiously  endorse  it."  What  a  joke  I 

The  "  Methodist "  says,  "  His  methods  are 
among  the  most  eccentric  ever  adopted  by  a  minis- 
ter ;  his  Sunday  services  bear  the  outer  aspect  of  a 
week-day  show."  Now,  Mr.  Methodist !  how  was 
it  with  you  in  olden  times  ?  What  won  you  the 
success  that  you  glory  in  to-day  ?  Please,  sir, . 
don't  throw  stones  at  vour  father's  house. 


460  SHADOWY  HAND. 

From  the  "  Christian  Era "  :  "  Everybody 
knows  Mr.  Morgan.  His  book  is  just  like  him. 
It  is  sure  to  have  a  host  of  readers,  just  as  his 
lectures  are  sure  to  have  a  host  of  hearers.  He  has 
certainly  done  a  great  and  good  work,  has  fairly 
won  his  laurels,  and  deserves  to  wear  them." 

The  "  Morning  Star "  says,  "  It  is  intensely 
alive  from  the  first  page  to  the  last ;  often  keen 
enough  to  disarm  criticism,  earnest  enough  to  be 
magnetic.  The  author  thoroughly  believes  in  his 
high  mission,  and  is  confident  that  this  book  will 
help  him  work  it  out ;  and  we  think  it  will." 

Boston  Journal.  "  Whatever  faults  may  be 
ascribed  to  Mr.  Morgan  as  a  public  speaker,  or 
literary  workman,  dulness  is  not  one  of  them. 
This  book  is  full  of  the  nervous  and  fiery  energy 
characteristic  of  his  platform  utterances." 

Christian  Intelligencer.  "  There  is  a  rough 
earnestness,  and  a  straight-forward  simplicity, 
together  with  a  mingled  vein  of  humor  and  pathos 
about  this  story,  which  make  it  very  attractive." 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  461 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

My  Consecration  at  the  Tomb  of  Whitefield.  — "  Thy  Vows 
are  upon  me."  —  White  Dove.  —  My  Mother's  Shadowy 
Hand.  —  My  New  Resolve.  — Appeal  to  my  Critics.  — Mer- 
chants' Testimonial.  — West,  or  East? 


NOW  come  to  the  most  interesting  event 
of  my  life,  an  event  of  great  moment  to  me, 
—  my  consecrati°n  at  the  tomb  of  White- 
field.  It  was  on  a  cold,  dismal,  autumnal  day 
that  I  visited  the  last  resting-place  of  the  Prince  of 
Preachers  at  Newburyport.  The  leaves  were  fall- 
ing ;  not  a  bird  was  stirring ;  all  Nature  was  pre- 
paring for  her  winter  sleep,  as  with  magic  fingers 
she  caught  the  solitary  snowflakes  as  they  fell, 
weaving  them  into  gauzy  net-work  to  veil  her 
features  from  the  coming  blast. 

Whitefield  was  my  beau  ideal  of  a  preacher :  his 
tomb  was  the  Mecca  of  my  pilgrimage.  Never 
were  Delphic  cave,  tripod,  or  sibyl  more  hallowed 
than  this  vault.  Never  did  Pythian  priestees,  or 
oracle  of  Apollo,  guard  holier  treasures.  No 
fabled  exhalations  from  the  caves  of  Parnassus,  no 
droppings  from  the  fountains  of  Castalia,  were 
half  so  inspiring  to  poet,  sage,  or  sibyl,  as  that 
plain,  unadorned,  unguarded  tomb  was  to  me. 


462  SHADOWY   HAND  ;   OE, 

Said  the  sexton,  "  There  is  Rev.  Mr.  Parsons's 
house,  and  there  the  chamber  in  which  the  great 
Whitefield  died.  There  the  stairs,  and  there  the 
doorsteps  on  which  he  stood  that  memorable 
Saturday  night,  with  candle  in  hand,  burning  it  to 
its  socket,  while  delivering  his  last  exhortation, 
with  hands  upraised  in  benediction  before  going 
to  his  room  to  meet  the  angel. 

Then  we  talked  of  his  trials  and  persecutions, 
his  opposition  from  the  clergy  of  the  Established 
Church,  of  the  New-Haven  Association,  and  other 
associations,  forbidding  him  their  pulpits,  and  dis- 
suading their  members  from  hearing  him.  He 
was  accused  of  telling  stories  to  please  the  multi- 
tude, of  lowering  the  dignity  of  the  pulpit.  His 
followers  were  designated  as  the  "  Rabble,"  his  con- 
verts called  "  Excitement  converts"  Most  of  them, 
being  refused  communion,  joined  the  Baptists,  and 
became  the  life  of  that  sect.  The  Baptists,  pre- 
vious to  this,  were  open  communionists.  Being 
refused  communion  by  the  Established  Church, 
they,  in  turn,  refused  the  church,  and  became  close 
communionists.  Through  that  "  Great  Awaken- 
ing," under  Whitefield,  the  Baptists  became  the 
leading  denomination  of  America  for  nearly  half 
a  century. 

Said  the  sexton  as  we  continued,  "  That  is  the 
church  (pointing  to  the  first  church)  which 


UFE-STKUGGLES.  463 

refused  Mr.  Whitefield.  Mr.  Parsons's  church  was 
ever  open  to  him.  It  was  the  fruit  of  Whitefield's 
labors.  This  is  the  cenotaph  erected  by  the  side 
of  the  pulpit  to  his  memory ;  and  that  is  the  por- 
trait of  Mr.  Parsons,  who  wished  to  be  buried  by 
his  side." 

I  said,  "  I  wish  to  enter  the  vault.  I  have  come 
to  consecrate  myself  anew  for  the  work  of  saving 
men.  This  is  not  the  first  time  I  have  visited  this 
place.  I  came  here  when  first  opening  my  mission 
in  Boston :  then  my  days  were  dark,  and  friends 
were  few.  Burdened  with  the  care  of  newsboys, 
holding  religious  meetings  every  night,  and  visit- 
ing from  house  to  house  until  my  health  was 
broken,  I  sought  this  shrine.  The  name  of 
Whitefield  was  dear  to  me :  it  was  ever  on  my 
mother's  lips ;  her  shadowy  hand  always  pointed 
to  him  as  my  model.  His  biography  was  ever  by 
my  side,  his  sermons  continually  on  my  table ;  his 
portrait  hung  upon  the  wall  over  my  bed ;  his 
extended  arms  in  my  night  vigils  were  over- 
shadowing me  with  his  benediction.  Through  my 
mother's  wish  I  visited  the  tomb,  and  at  the  feet 
of  Whitefield  laid  my  case  in  agony  of  prayer 
before  God. 

"  The  Methodists  had  refused  to  ordain  me,  and 
threatened  to  take  away  my  license,  unless  I  gave 
my  mission  into  their  hands.  My  health  was  fail- 


464  SHADOWY  HAND;  OR, 

ing  fast ;  my  spirits  were  nearly  broken.  Like 
John  on  the  Island  of  Patmos,  in  his  cave,  shut 
out  from  the  light  of  day,  I  sought  light  from  the 
spirit  world.  Here  my  soul  was  enlarged.  I 
received  a  commission  to  go  forth  and  preach  the 
gospel  to  all  classes  of  men,  rich  and  poor,  high 
and  low,  and  not  be  limited  by  denominational 
ties. 

"  What  a  vision  opened  before  me !  As  John 
saw  his  cave,  by  the  dim  light  of  the  taper,  gradu- 
ally expanding  into  a  palace  of  crystals,  each 
stalactite  and  stalagmite  caused  by  the  droppings 
of  centuries  changing  into  solid  pearls  for  the 
twelve  gates,  and  each  gem  of  the  ceiling  becom- 
ing a  precious  stone, — jasper,  sardonyx,  emerald, 
topaz,  amethyst, — until  the  walls  went  up  twelve 
thousand  furlongs  high;  the  very  floor  upon 
which  he  kneeled  was.  paved  with  gold,  and  the 
*  New  Jerusalem  came  down  from  God  out  of 
heaven  as  a  bride  adorned  for  her  husband,'  so  in 
Whitefield's  vault  my  heart  was  enlarged  to 
embrace  all  men  of  all  nations  who  acknowledge 
the  fatherhood  of  God  and  brotherhood  of  man. 
I  returned  to  my  mission  with  renewed  hopes,  and 
determined  to  labor  for  the  salvation  of  the  lost. 
Ten  years  have  elapsed ;  my  mother  has  died ; 
my  spirits  have  become  again  depressed.  I  have 
been  assailed  for  lecturing  and  telling  anecdotes 


LIFE-STKUGGLES.  465 

on  Sunday  nights.  Men  in  high  places  accuse  me 
of  '  sensationalism,'  of  selecting  '  odd  texts '  for 
my  discourses  to  attract  the  '  rabble,'  not  com- 
prehending my  motives.  My  book,  '  Shadowy 
Hand,'  has  been  severely  criticised.  Amidst  my 
trials  and  persecutions  I  come  again  to  this  spot 
to  re-consecrate  myself  before  God.  I  desire  to 
enter  the  vault."  The  sexton  lighted  his  lantern, 
opened  the  trap-door  at  the  back  of  the  pulpit :  we 
descended  a  small  flight  of  stairs,  and  came  to  the 
door  of  the  vault.  He  opened  it,  and  we  entered. 

"  There  at  the  right,"  said  the  sexton,  "  is  the 
coffin  of  Mr.  Parsons ;  at  the  left  is  the  coffin  of 
the  blind  preacher ;  and  here,  lying  across  them 
both,  are  the  remains  of  the  immortal  Whitefield." 
He  opened  the  lid,  held  up  the  lantern,  and 
showed  me  the  precious  relics.  "  Many  tunes  I 
have  opened  that  lid  to  visitors  from  both  Europe 
and  America,"  said  he  as  he  withdrew.  I  set  the 
lantern  outside,  closed  the  vault-door,  and  was 
left  alone  in  darkness  and  solitude  with  the  dead. 

I  seemed  in  the  presence  of  the  mighty,  living 
Whitefield.  My  soul  was  imbued  with  his  spirit 
of  self-sacrifice  and  prayer.  How  holy  was  that 
place  !  I  knelt  by  the  side  of  the  coffin,  placed 
my  hand  upon  the  brow  of  his  skeleton  frame.  I 
pressed  with  reverence  and  prayer  upon  that  skull 
whose  brain  had  moved  the  hearts  of  millions.  I 


466  SHADOWY  HAND;   OB, 

touched  the  bones  of  his  right  arm  for  inspiration . 
I  lifted  the  arm  that  had,  like  a  magician's  wand, 
swayed  twenty  thousand  in  the  field.  I  had  come 
to  the  tomb  of  Samuel,  and  saw  the  venerable 
prophet  come  forth. 

How  deeply  I  felt  my  own  insignificance  before 
such  a  model !  How  little  1  had  done  in  compari- 
son !  Oh,  how  I  longed  to  be  more  fitted  to  the 
work  of  saving  men !  I  cried  from  the  depths  of 
my  soul  to  the  Lord  for  help  :  "  How  long,  O  Lord ! 
how  long  ?"  Oh  for  a  holy  enthusiasm  !  Oh  for 
a  resurrection  of  the  dry  bones  of  back-slidden 
churches  ! 

I  thought  of  Whitefield's  eloquence,  his  por- 
trayal of  Christ's  agony,  the  meltings  of  mercy, 
the  terrors  of  judgment,  his  talking  with  Abraham 
in  heaven,  asking  him,  "  Are  there  any  sects  in 
heaven  ? "  his  stopping  Gabriel  on  his  heavenly 
mission,  crying,  "  Stop,  Gabriel,  stop  I "  his 
passionate  weeping,  praying,  and  exhorting,  pour- 
ing out  his  whole  soul  in  every  sermon,  preach- 
ing,— 

"  As  if  he  ne'er  might  preach  again, 
A  dying  man  to  dying  men." 

These  filled  me  with  reverence  and  awe.  I 
prayed  for  a  baptism,  for  guidance.  I  prayed 
until  it  seemed  as  if  the  heavens  were  opened. 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  467 

The  darkness  of  the  tomb  became  as  the  bright- 
ness of  noonday.  The  white  dove  that  years 
before  had  visited  my  congregation  while  I  lay  at 
death's  door  hard  by,  and  brought  me  great  com- 
fort, hope,  and  joy,  now  again  appeared,  minister- 
ing to  my  consecration,  as  did  the  dove  to  the 
baptism  of  the  Son  of  God  in  the  River  Jordan. 
As  it  circled  over  my  head,  its  plumage .  sparkling 
with  diamond  flashes,  light  broke  in  upon  my  soul 
as  from  a  new  revelation.  I  felt  commissioned  for 

• 

a  great  work. 

In  my  chapel  at  Boston,  a  dove  had  entered,  and 
flitted  round  and  round,  lighting  upon  the  pulpit, 
while  the  minister  was  at  the  altar,  suffering  itself 
to  be  caught  and  brought  to  my  bedside  as  a  mes- 
senger from  the  spirit  world.  That  was  an  actual 
fact.  It  occurred  June  15,  1862.  This,  however, 
my  last  visitation,  was  only  in  imagination.  Here 
was  no  material  dove,  no  possible  chance  for  such 
an  advent;  the  walls  were  of  brick;  the  door  of 
the  vault  was  closed ;  and  darkness  reigned. 

Yet  what  joy  was  experienced  in  that  fanciful 
visitation  !  what  a  holy  unction  !  what  a  revelation 
from  the  spirit  realm  ! 

I  also  saw  in  my  vision,  slowly  moving  upon  the 
ceiling,  my  mother's  "  shadowy  hand"  once  more. 
What  a  privilege  !  I  heard  her  whisperings,  and 
felt  her  warm  breath  fan  my  cheek.  I  knew  it 


468  SHADOWY   HAND;   OB, 

was  my  mother  :  I  felt  her  influence  as  in  child- 
hood. As  the  hand  waved,  I  saw  her  benignant 
form  rise  up  before  me.  Placing  her  hand  upon 
my  head,  as  she  did  when  consecrating  me  in  the 
old  schoolhouse  in  Connecticut,  she  said,  "  The 
wing  of  the  Almighty  be  over  thee,  my  son  !  A 
mother's  blessing  be  upon  thee !  Go  forth  and 
battle  for  the  Lord.  Fear  not  opposition  nor  per- 
secution. *  With  Grod  to  speed  the  right,  there's  no 
such  word  as  fail.' '  Then  with  a  radiant  smile, 
and  angelic  expression  upon  her  countenance,  her 
shadowy  hand  pointing  upward,  she  vanished. 

How  impressive  the  scene  !  How  inspiring  that 
interview  !  I  rose  from  my  knees,  entranced.  I 
thought  of  the  lifeless  pulpits  and  empty  pews, 
the  overwhelming  tide  of  scepticism,  the  bold 
front  of  sin,  and  resolved  to  make  one  more  effort 
to  rally  God's  hosts  to  the  charge. 

As  I  opened  the  door,  and  came  to  the  light, 
there  stood  the  sexton,  bathed  in  tears.  Said  he, 
"  O  sir !  I  had  just  such  a  mother.  Her  hand 
was  over  me  ;  her  shadow  followed  me  ;  and  her 
teachings  led  me  up  to  God.  May  God  bless  you 
for  publishing  the  influence  of  a  mother's  '  Shad- 
owy Hand '  /  " 

I  left  Newburyport  burdened  with  the  apocalypse 
of  my  divine  commission.  "  It  was  as  a  burning 
fire  shut  up  in  my  bones.  I  could  not  forbear."  I 


LIFE-STRUGGLES.  469 

opened  courses  of  lectures  in  Lowell,  Lynn,  and 
Salem,  with  greater  success  than  I  had  ever  before 
experienced.  At  Lynn,  when  '?  Fast  Young  Men  " 
was  delivered  for  the  fourth  time,  every  standing- 
place  in  aisles,  ante-room,  and  platform,  was  filled  ; 
and  the  doors  were  closed  long  before  the  time  for 
the  lecture.  Similar  throngs  were  attracted  to  Me- 
chanic Hall,  Salem,  and  Huntington  Hall,  Lowell. 
For  over  an  hour  and  a  half  each  evening,  those 
immense  audiences  listened,  wept,  and  responded 
to  my  God-inspired  appeals.  I  felt  it  no  sin  to  be 
"  egotistical.'"  The  "  GREAT  I  AM  "  had  sent  me. 
I  felt  not  condemned  for  publishing  "  Shadowy 
Hand  "  "  to  advertise  myself."  My  commission 

Was  to  "  GO  INTO  ALL  THE  WORLD,  AND  PREACH 
TO  EVERY  CREATURE." 

To  do  this,  I  must  meet  the  crowd  not  in  select, 
cushioned  pews,  but  in  halls.  I  thought  it  not 
wrong  to  charge  admittance-fee.  There  is  no 
more  sin  in  charging  on  Sunday  night  ten  cents  at 
the  door  than  in  taking  five  dollars  at  the  pew. 
Besides,  it  is  more  democratic  ;  it  is  less  exclusive  ; 
it  debars  no  one.  It  places  all  men  on  a  level, 
—  rich,  poor,  high,  and  low,  —  equal  before  G-od. 

I  was  not  ashamed  of  my  odd  texts  or  odd  sub- 
jects, my  "  Speckled  Bird  "  lectures.  The  Sav- 
iour of  the  world  was  not  ashamed  of  such.  He 
drew  his  comparisons  from  hen  and  chickens, 


470  LIFE-STRUGGLES. 

sheep,  oxen,  foxes,  and  fishermen.  Neither  was  I 
abashed  at  "  Bachelors  "  nor  "  Old  Maids."  He 
choose  bridegrooms  and  virgins.  Neither  of  "  Sam- 
son," nor  "  Fast  Young  Men."  Christ  discoursed 
on  the  prodigal. 

Christ  adapted  himself  to  the  times  and  his 
hearers.  It  was  my  duty  to  suit  myself  to  my 
hearers,  and  to  the  age,  even  if  it  be  by  preaching 
on  the  "  Railroad  of  Life." 

"  The  Salem  Register  "  says,  "  Those  who  find 
most  fault  with  his  lectures  are  almost  invariably 
persons  who  have  never  heard  him.  His  eccentri- 
cities serve  to  draw  in  that  large  class  to  be  found 
in  every  large  city,  who  could  not  be  induced  to 
attend  an  ordinary  religious  service.  Mr.  Morgan 
will  work  on  in  his  own  way.  He  will  have  his 
hearers :  his  audiences  will  continue  to  laugh  and 
weep  ;  and  good  will  be  done." 

O  ye  critics,  forbear!  Stand  not  in  the  way 
of  the  Lord !  From  this  time  forth  I  shall,  under 
God,  do  my  whole  duty,  regardless  of  all  opposi- 
tion. The  merchants  have  tendered  me  a  testi- 
monial on  my  departure  from  Boston.  I  know  not 
whether  I  shall  remain  West  or  East.  The  great 
heart  of  the  West  is  beating  to  welcome  me,  yet 
my  affections  are  in  Boston.  Of  the  future,  God 
only  knows.  Wherever  I  go  I  shall  proclaim 
aloud,  and  spare  not. 


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